


It's The Great Destiel Shipper, Sam Winchester

by thejigsawtimess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, crack!fic, fangirling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 47,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejigsawtimess/pseuds/thejigsawtimess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's Sam really doing all that time on the computer? Fangirling. Over Chuck's Supernatural books. Now, Wincest might be a bit of a stretch for Sam, but Destiel he might just be able to get on board with... Especially after being around the two people involved for three days straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Slightly OOC Sam (I had to mould him a little to fit with the story)  
> Set shortly after 5x09 (The Real Ghostbusters) but before 5.10 (Abandon All Hope)  
> It is a crack!fic, so bear that in mind before we begin. Enjoy.
> 
> Oh and also, just a note, I know that Chuck's books are said in 'The Monster at the End of This Book' to only go up to Dean going to Hell, but let's just pretend - for argument's sake - that Chuck continued publishing even after this, despite the Winchester's wishes. That way, Cas is a regular character, and everybody is happy. Thank you!

 By the time Sam, Dean and Cas traipsed back into Room 106 of the Little Lover's Honeymoon Motel it was late. The boys were exhausted and irritable after the hunt, and Dean's sudden decision to have a raging bitch fit wasn't helping the situation.

 

 "I didn't need your help, man! I can take care of myself!" Dean yelled, evidently angry as he slammed the door shut behind them all.

"Dean, that vampire was about to sink his fangs into your-" Castiel began to explain in a strained, yet unfathomably patient voice.

 

"It was under control!" Dean interrupted, falling back on one of the beds. "You don't need to always be flying in to save me the whole friggin' time! What are you, my guardian angel?"

"In many ways, yes, that is an accurate portrayal of our relationship, don't you think?" Cas retorted in his newly found sarcastic tone, scowling a little. "Get some sleep, Dean. Maybe in the morning you'll think to thank me for saving your life once again."

Dean reached behind him to grab his pillow and hurl it at Cas, only to have it fly ineffectually through the air as the Angel vanished.

Sam sighed from his position still over by the door. He flicked the latch, went to collect the pillow and threw it back at Dean, who grunted, but didn't move, letting the pillow rest on his face.

They were constantly doing this, Sam thought as he shucked off his jeans and climbed into the other bed, Dean and Cas would be practically holding hands one minute, and then at each other's throats the next. It was as if the idea of being so close scared them – or more likely, scared  _Dean_  – and so he'd pick a fight about something stupid just for the sake of it.

It was getting really annoying.

* * *

1:30am. Was that late enough? Sam was never entirely sure. He risked a glance over at his brother, who had finally mustered up the strength to crawl under the covers about an hour ago. He was breathing evenly, his face turned away. He must be asleep by now, surely. Sam chewed his lip, getting impatient. He didn't think he could wait any longer.

Slowly, carefully, Sam sat up, holding the covers steady so that they wouldn't make a rustling noise. With aching precision, he lifted one leg up and slid it out to the side, the other following closely behind until both feet were firmly planted on the gritty carpet covering the motel floor. He glanced over at Dean, who hadn't moved an inch, and continued the process of vacating the bed. At length, he managed to get himself into a sort of hunched over standing position, not unlike an old beggar woman, holding the scratchy motel duvet up in mid-air like a safety blanket, lest it should rustle or quiver and wake Dean.

He laid the covers down carefully, and tiptoed over to the table in the corner of the room, finding it illuminated by the light from the stained window behind it, and with one wooden and mildly uncomfortable looking chair in position. Sam couldn't help admiring the spot earlier, thinking of what a perfect place it would be for one man to sit with a computer, away from prying eyes. He had even placed his laptop there in anticipation of this moment.

As silently as possible, Sam slid into his seat, flicked open the lid of his laptop and sighed, a smile creeping onto his face as the warm blue glow of the screen lit up his features. A quick glance over at his oblivious brother ensured he was good to go, and he quickly opened up his favourite page.

  **THE SUPERNATURAL SOCIETY**  


**A fanbase for Carver Edlund's brilliant and terrifying book series, Supernatural!**

**Welcome back, Samfan69!**

It felt good to be home. Sam wasted no time in the galleries or looking at the clips of the various Supernatural conventions. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, Dean rarely got more than four hours sleep, and he wanted to spend a good deal of time in the Supernatural chatroom tonight.

* * *

Okay, so Sam knew it was weird. I mean, he didn't wait until 1:30am just for the hell of it, if Dean ever found out about Sam's weird obsession with the Supernatural books, he'd… well Sam genuinely couldn't fathom what his brother's reaction would be, but it sure as hell wouldn't be good. I mean, even he could admit, fangirling over a series of books where  _you_ are one of the main characters is pretty odd. But Sam thought that if Dean ever found out, God forbid, he might be able to wrap his head around that much… I mean, when you get down to it, Dean can be a pretty egotistical guy himself in some ways, and Sam was surprised the idea of thousands of screaming fans poring over vivid descriptions of himself didn't interest his brother more, really.

But it wasn't even the drooling teenage girls fawning over his character that got Sam hooked. It's all these  _theories_ that the fans come up with. He actually started this obsession pretty innocently – he was researching, something about Enochian sigils, and he clicked on a link that led him to a Supernatural fan page, run by a particularly dedicated young woman who had matched up some archangelic sigils to a design on the watch the Trickster was described as wearing back at the Mystery Spot. At the time, Sam had dismissed the whole idea as the ridiculous ramblings of a fan spending far too much time online, but later, when the Trickster revealed himself as the Archangel Gabriel, a cold chill ran down Sam's spine. She'd been right.

There were thousands of fan theories just like this one, and Sam would be lying if he said he didn't tap the Supernatural Society resource regularly when he was doing research. But that was all work. It was at night, when nobody was peeking over his shoulder that he could indulge in some of the… stranger fan theories that really caught his interest. The 'shipping', for instance, was an area that Sam - despite avoiding for a while, thinking he most likely wouldn't like what he would find if he looked - found most intriguing. Destiel, Wincest… what was it all about? Sam had decided to put an end to his curiosity, and just delve right in, only he hadn't been able to get online for longer than five minutes at a time until now. Well tonight was the night.

Sam clicked on the  **SlashFanChat** link eagerly, and smiled as he waited for the page to load. He hadn't been able to sign on for a few days, and he was getting antsy. He only knew very little about the slash side of Supernatural, but so far his OTP was definitely Bobby/Crowley. When he saw a fan mention it for the first time, he burst out laughing, remembering the picture Crowley had shown him of the kiss. Imagine if the Supernatural Society got hold of that! But apparently Chuck's description of the kiss was enough for some fans. The chatbox finally appeared, and Sam glanced eagerly at the guest list. His face fell a little. Only two other people were in the chatroom tonight. Oh well, it's not like Chuck's books were an overwhelming success anyway.

**Samfan69: Hey guys!**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Hiiiii :)**

**Destiel4eva: hey**

**Samfan69: What are you guys talking about?**

**Destiel4eva: our overwhelming Destiel feels haha**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Srsly, why can't they just make out already?!**

**Samfan69: … are you talking about Dean and Castiel?**

**Destiel4eva: duh**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Are you a Wincest shipper then?**

**Destiel4eva: lol who isn't**

**Samfan69: What! EW! No!**

Sam felt himself shudder, and he reeled back from the computer screen a little. He glanced up at Dean to check he was still sleeping, and shuddered again.

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Haha, I'm not that keen either. I don't mind it or anything, but Destiel is my OTP!**

**Destiel4eva: yeah, me too can you tell lol**

**Destiel4eva: i see where people are coming from with Wincest tho**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Yeah same, I mean they obvs can't live without each other – and when Dean sold his soul to save Sam that was so cute.**

_CUTE?!_ She couldn't be serious. This girl thought Dean selling his soul to a crossroads demon and going to hell for FORTY YEARS was  _cute?!_ Although, her username would suggest she was born in 1997, making her fifteen. Sam decided he should probably let her off.

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Oh and when Dean calls him Sammy… unf.**

**Destiel4eva: haha!**

**Samfan69: unf?**

**Destiel4eva: she thinks it's hot**

**Samfan69: UGH**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Hey! Don't diss other people's kinks! I've read too many fanfics where he says it during sex okay?**

**Samfan69: PLEASE STOP**

**Destiel4eva: hahahaha**

**Destiel4eva: so… you don't like Wincest – are you a Destiel shipper?**

**Samfan69: Um…**

**MrsDeanWinchester69: Come on, you have to admit, they are completely canon.**

Sam sure as hell wasn't going to embarrass himself by asking what canon meant again.

**Samfan69: I guess I've never really thought about it…**

**Destiel4eva: well think about it! He GRIPPED HIM TIGHT and RAISED HIM FROM PERDITION.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Plus the way they're always staring at each other.**

**Destiel4eva: eyesex.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: and Cas always saves Dean on hunts!**

**Destiel4eva: and he ALWAYS comes when Dean calls and hardly ever when Sam does (sorry Samfan)**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Omg, and that adorable time when Dean was all 'you're NOT going to die a virgin, not on my watch!' and took Cas to a strip club and paid a hooker to have sex with him but Cas couldn't go through with it COS HE'S SO IN LURRRVE**

**Samfan69: WHAT?! When the hell did that happen?**

Dean took an Angel of the Lord to a  _strip club?!_ He was going to have serious words with his brother later. How did he not know about this?

**Destiel4eva: book 6 dummy. You need to brush up on your Supernatural knowledge.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: The things I would do to have them become canon…**

**Destiel4eva: omg ikr. If Dean and Cas were (lol) real people and I knew them, I would LITERALLY do everything in my power to make them see how made for each other they are.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Absolutely. Everything I could.**

Sam's brow creased as he read the words, and not just because the abbreviation 'ikr' went right over his head. They'd do  _everything in their power_? That seemed a tad extreme. They must really believe in this Destiel thing, he thought.

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Sigh. We can dream.**

**Destiel4eva: pfft. You can dream. I'm gonna write Chuck a letter expressing my homoerotic desires.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Omg, haha!**

"Sammy?" Dean's voice sailed through the darkness, making Sam jump and snap his head up in fear. "What're y'doin?" He slurred sleepily, sitting up a little to peer over at Sam, still huddled over his laptop on the table.

"Oh, n-nothing. I couldn't sleep… I was just looking for a case." Sam replied quickly, his words tripping over themselves.

Dean grabbed his phone off the bedside table and blinked at the screen blearily. "It's nearly two in the morning!"

"I know. Go back to sleep, I'm going to bed now." Sam replied, his heart sinking. To his relief, Dean sank back down onto his pillow and closed his eyes.

Sighing, Sam turned back to the chatroom and tapped out a hurried message.

**Samfan69: Sorry guys, gotta go. My brother's being a dick. You've given me a lot to think about! Bye x**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Oh :( bye Samfan! I hope we converted you to our shipping ways!**

**Destiel4eva: DESTIEL4EVA DAMMIT! Xxx**

**Samfan69 has left the conversation.**

To the accompaniment of Dean's annoyed moaning, Sam switched off his laptop, closed the lid and shuffled back to bed. He needed some sleep anyway.

He rolled over onto his side, waiting for sleep to overcome him. Those girls had made some interesting points. I mean, he was just thinking about how weird Cas and Dean were when they were around each other, blowing hot one minute and cold the next. What if, like that other fan did with the Trickster/Gabriel, these girls had a point? Sam rolled over onto his other side so he could stare at Dean's unconscious profile in the other bed. Was his big brother all lovesick over an Angel of the Lord? Even worse, was Cas smitten with his loud, obnoxious, egotistical brother?

Sam could feel his thoughts start to blur at the edges. Meh, he'd figure it out in the morning.

* * *

Morning, as it happened, came far too soon for either of the hunter's liking, having been awake at ungodly hours of the morning after an extremely tiring hunt in a vamp nest nearby. Dean was grumpy, but what was new there, and Sam thought it wise to let him have the first shower before they set off.

Dean glared at Sam and ambled off to the bathroom – a look that clearly said 'it's your fault I'm so friggin tired and who the hell gets up at 1:30am anyway'. Clearly Destiel fangirls do, Sam thought privately.

Once the sound of water running could be heard from behind the closed door, Sam leapt out of bed and over to his laptop, hurriedly clicking the 'on' button and waiting impatiently for it to boot up, his eyes darting nervously towards the bathroom.

As the laptop slowly whirred into life, Sam ran over the conversation he'd had with the two girls in the chatroom the night before. He couldn't help matching up the 'evidence' the girls gave for the existence of Destiel with his own memories of Dean and Cas together. For instance: the  _staring._  Now that he thought about it, there was a hell of a lot of gazing going on between them, and yeah, Sam could readily admit that was a bit  _weird._ And okay, maybe Castiel was an Angel of the Lord and was staring so hard because he was looking into Dean's soul or something crazy – but just what in the hell was Dean's excuse?

The desktop flashed onto the screen, and Sam quickly pulled up the Supernatural Society homepage, clicking onto the SlashFanChat straight away. Thanking the Lord for free motel WiFi, Sam glanced at the guest list to see that Destiel4eva was back online! Perfect. He just wanted a quick word, just to verify his current feelings.

There were several other people in the chatroom now – probably due to it being a more reasonable time than 1:30am, so Sam requested a private chat with her, and much to his relief, she accepted.

**Samfan69: Hey again!**

**Destiel4eva: hi**

**Samfan69 is typing…**

**Destiel4eva: listen you're not a perv or anything right?**

**Destiel4eva: my mom's always trying to convince me that there are like 30 year old guys on this site pretending to be teenagers lol**

**Samfan69: HAHA no of course not HAHAHAHAHA**

Sam gulped down a guilt trip about the little almost lie. Well, he was only 29! And this was for the sake of his brother's well being! And his own. If he had to listen to another one of Cas and Dean's stupid, pointless arguments he'd go crazy. What if there was a way to stop it?

**Samfan69: Listen, are you like, 100% sure about the whole Dean/Castiel thing?**

**Destiel4eva: *Destiel. Yeah, I'd bet my Supernatural collector's edition on it**

**Samfan69: Hmm. You know, I think you might be on to something… I mean Dean's always moping around, acting all moody whenever I talk about Cas…**

**Destiel4eva: huh? Dude, it's just a book…**

**Samfan69: Right, yeah! I know, I was just… really into the Supernatural world for a sec there.**

**Destiel4eva: w/e. So you ship Destiel now? Cool!**

**Samfan69: I guess! Haha. Hey, remember what you were saying yesterday about if you could you'd do everything in your power to make them see?**

**Destiel4eva: yeah**

**Samfan69: What… exactly would you do?**

Over the next five minutes, Sam and a young teenage girl managed to hammer out a plan of what they would do if 'hypothetically' they were able to meddle in Dean and Cas's completely obvious relationship.

"What're you grinning at? You're driving the first half." Dean said, sounding slightly less grumpy now, and walking out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a white towel draped around his hips.

"Oh, that's fine." Sam said, still grinning, closing the laptop lid and turning to Dean. "Not a problem."

Dean was starting to look concerned about the large, toothy smile on his brother's face, when suddenly Sam sprang up out of his chair and headed to the bathroom, whistling to himself.

"You're way too chipper, man." Dean mumbled, rummaging through his bag for clothes.

It doesn't matter, Sam thought happily, he had a plan.

* * *

_Phase One of The Plan: Convince them of each other's affections._

They'd been driving for a good half an hour, and it was an unusually hot day, so Dean insisted on having all the windows of the Impala down as they raced down the highway. Sam was driving because Dean was still tired apparently, so this was a rare occasion where Sam could choose the music and Dean had to – how had he so eloquently put it once? –  _shut his cakehole._

Sam switched off the radio. Dean turned to glare at him in annoyance, but was clearly too hot to do anything other than move his head fractionally towards Sam.

"I just wanted… to chat." Sam said in explanation. Dean closed his eyes and moved his head back to loll against the seat. "Dean?"

"God, Sammy, all we do is talk! Radio is there so we don't have to. It's too hot for a damn chinwag."

Sam sighed, and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "Actually – I wanted to talk about Cas. Specifically." Dean's eyes snapped open and he sat upright, his incredulous stare boring a hole into the side of Sam's head.

"What about Cas?" Dean asked, at a slightly louder decibel than was probably necessary.

"I just… noticed you guys have been arguing a lot-"

"That's not your problem, Sam." Dean interrupted, sitting back again and staring out the windscreen, his arms folded across his chest.

"Well I was just thinking… I mean, I know it might be annoying to have him come rescue you every time, but you've gotta admit, we'd be nowhere without him by now. He's just trying to help you Dean-"

"Shut up Sam. You don't know what you're talking about." Dean said loudly, cutting Sam off before he could continue.

"Okay! Okay, just… maybe think about the possibility that… that…"

"That  _what_ Sam?!" Dean demanded, glaring at Sam's profile again.

"…did you ever consider the possibility that Cas might be doing this because he… y'know…" Sam asked tentatively, risking a quick glance at Dean to raise his eyebrows a little, hoping his older brother would get the message.

It seemed to dawn on Dean pretty quickly. "What?! Oh, Sam for Christ's sake. That's absurd!"

Sam stifled a giggle at Dean's reaction. That definitely seemed a bit too defensive.

"So there's nothing you wanna tell me, you don't want to confess any feelings…?"

"Shut your piehole, Sammy!"

"Dean, if you ever need someone to confide in-"

"Goddammit Samantha! I swear to God I will throw your damn precious laptop into the middle of the highway!"

Sam said nothing more, still smirking. He'd planted the idea. That's all that mattered.

* * *

This time was going to be far more difficult, Sam already knew, and wasn't particularly looking forward to the conversation he was going to need to have soon, but he carried on driving with admirable determination, a now sulking Dean by his side.

They came to a rest stop about two hours later, and got out to stretch their legs and fill up Dean's baby. Dean said he'd drive the next stretch, and Sam eagerly clambered into the back seat, thinking he could get a nap in before his next turn at the wheel.

He was just drifting off when Dean's loud cry of "Holy shit!" jerked him awake just in time to see the car swerve violently to the left before righting itself. Sam was about to ask Dean what the hell he was playing at when suddenly he heard a voice from beside him.

"Hello Sam."

"Jeez!" Sam cried, jumping slightly as he took in the sight of Castiel next to him on the back seat.

"Dean." Castiel acknowledged curtly, nodding at Dean's reflection in the rearview mirror. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Cas, you need to  _call_. How many times?! You nearly made me swerve off the goddamn road!" Dean cried, sounding irritated. Cars began to overtake him as he maintained his eye contact with Castiel in the mirror.

"My apologies. Terribly sorry for inconveniencing you with my presence yet  _again_ , Dean. Next time I find you after hours of searching up and down the length of the highway for the  _only_ 1967 Chevy Impala I will be sure to spare a moment to call you first." Sam had never heard Castiel sound so bitchy. He kind of liked the new Cas. Dean rolled his eyes and dragged them back to look out of the windscreen.

_So much Goddamn staring. How am I only noticing this now?_

"Good to see you, Cas. You got news?" Sam asked with a smile, hoping to ease some of the practically tangible tension.

Castiel nodded once. "There have been reports of a gang of demons up in South Dakota, not far from Bobby's… residence. From the sounds of things, the demons have some sort of spirit under their control, and are using it to indirectly kill their victims."

"Sounds like our kind of party. We were headed to Bobby's anyway, right Dean?" Sam asked, turning towards the front.

In response, Dean switched on the radio. At least he carried on driving in the same direction. Castiel sighed and placed his hands delicately in his trenchcoat-covered lap. Well, Sam thought, it's now or never.

"Hey, so, um, Cas?" Castiel turned his head wearily towards Sam. He looked miserable. Poor guy.

"You and Dean… are you guys… okay? I mean I noticed you're arguing a lot-"

"Sam, I don't think it's wise to discuss personal matters whilst your brother is in the car." Castiel interrupted, his voice low.

"Oh don't worry about him, he's got twelve cassette tapes of Metallica to get through." As if on cue, Dean's voice rang through the car, belting out the wordless guitar solo with impressive accuracy. "Seriously though, he doesn't mean it. He's just really uptight about his masculinity."

Castiel frowned and tilted his head in a questioning gesture. "Are you saying he's gender confused?"

Sam had to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing. "I mean, if you keep swooping in and saving him like he's the damsel and you're the knight in shining armour, yeah, he's gonna get annoyed. And I know it's not fair, cause you're just trying to help, but that's just who he is."

Castiel sighed. "I don't understand him. He'd prefer it if I just stood by and watched as he barely makes it out alive?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, probably. Dean's a hunter to the core – he lives for the near-death experience."

Castiel shook his head as if he couldn't comprehend such behaviour, and looked out of the window.

"Hey, Cas… he does know. That y'know, you're doing everything for him." Castiel gave a humourless laugh. Sam tried not to let the shock show on his face. "I don't think he knows how to thank you for it though." Sam mused, a smile playing on his lips. Castiel turned to look at him again. "He's not used to people doing stuff for him… and you've done so much. Have you ever maybe… wondered… if that might have had an effect on him?"

Sam held his breath and searched Castiel's face for any signs of recognition. The Angel stared blankly back at him.

"What… do you mean? What effect?" Castiel asked, his brow creasing again.

Sam breathed out and ran a hand through his hair. What a great idea, Sam. Explain to  _Castiel_ – the guy who doesn't understand how a cellphone voicemail works – that your big brother has a huge gay crush on him, but that Dean doesn't actually know it himself yet. Man, you have a long way to go before reaching professional fangirl status.

"Well… when someone saves your life countless times, and dies for you, and gives up everything for you… I'd imagine it'd be quite difficult not to have… feelings for that person." Sam tried, wincing as he had to spell it out.

"Feelings." Castiel repeated, still sounding confused. "Feelings?"

"Feelings." Sam confirmed, and looked pointedly between Dean and Castiel, trying to hammer the point home.

"Would you two ladies shut up about your damn  _feelings_? You're starting to drown out Metallica!" Dean yelled over the noise of the radio blaring from the front. Castiel blushed and turned to look out of the window again.

Oh well, Sam thought, hopefully he'd given Castiel some food for thought.

* * *

_Phase Two of The Plan: Get Dean to save Cas during a hunt._

It was getting dark when Dean pulled the car up to a run-down looking cottage just outside of Sioux Falls, the sun setting at long last, and the intense heat finally starting to dissipate. He had grudgingly followed Castiel's instructions, and he switched off the engine with an annoyed scowl on his face. The three of them got out of the car, Sam and Dean stretching until their joints popped after being crammed in a hot, stuffy car all day. Dean did not look pleased that Castiel looked as comfortable as ever, despite being drenched in trenchcoat as per usual.

"Come on." Dean grumbled, hauling the trunk open and grabbing a shotgun before marching off to the door of the cottage.

Sam shot a sympathetic look towards Cas, and grabbed the other shotgun, checking to see if it was loaded with rock salt, like he always did. Castiel stood expectantly by his side, and Sam slammed the lid of the trunk closed.

"You don't need any weapons, right Cas?" Sam asked, plastering a bright smile on to his face. "You've got your Angel mojo to back you up, right?"

"Err… I suppose…" Castiel said uncertainly, probably thinking about the number of demons waiting for them inside.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder and followed Dean hastily towards the building, Castiel hot on his heels. The large wooden door was heavy and clearly bolted from the inside, but Dean was clearly not planning on wasting time with lock picking. He walked back a few paces, aimed his foot squarely at the door, and drew himself up fully, preparing to kick, hard. At that moment, the door flew open with a loud bang, sending Dean's foot hurtling through the air.

Dean looked up, fuming, at Castiel, who had his hand raised towards the door, clearly having just 'mojo'd' it open.

"Cas! What the hell?" Dean shouted, loudly, and Sam slapped a hand over his brother's mouth a fraction too late. In seconds there were thick tendrils of black smoke pouring out of every window and crack in the building, all pooling around them in a tight circle where they stood in the dusty courtyard.

_If we die tonight because Dean and Cas can't quit their lovers spats, they are going to spend eternity with me screaming ABBA songs at them both for being so stupid,_ Sam thought.

He didn't have much time for thinking however, and in seemingly no time at all, the demons materialised, taking on their human forms. They were surrounded, there was no way they were getting back to the Impala now, despite it only being a few yards away. Sam fired his first shot at a balding, ebony eyed man in a navy sweatshirt, and all hell broke loose.

The demons attacked from all sides, cackling and screaming obscenities as they were picked off one by one. Sam's gun was ineffectual at best, and he reached for Ruby's knife, remembering too late that as part of the plan he had given it to Dean. Sam's gaze darted about as he hurriedly reloaded, and he caught sight of Castiel a few feet away, slamming his bare hands onto the faces of any demons that dared venture close to him, ripping them out of their vessels with his shining grace.

Damn it.  _He was supposed to be the damsel in distress this time_ , Sam thought as he fired another shot into the chest of a young blonde woman with a snarl on her lipsticked mouth. There was only one thing for it, Sam sighed to himself. With a dramatic, high-pitched squeal of what he hoped sounded like pure terror, Sam dropped his shotgun to the ground and placed a hand against his forehead, falling backwards as theatrically as possible, hoping to God Castiel saw. Luckily, for a few moments, any demons near to Sam seemed genuinely bemused by what had just happened and froze in their tracks, giving Castiel just enough time to glance over at Sam, now crumpled to the floor, shoot a quick look over at Dean, who seemed to be taunting the demons with a cocky grin, luring the majority of them over to him where he could plunge the demon knife in again and again. Once Castiel was sure he was safe, he turned on his heel, and ran to help Sam.

"Sam. Are you hurt? What's wrong?" Castiel asked urgently as soon as he reached him, quickly taking care of a stray demon that charged towards him on his left. Sam gave an Oscar-worthy groan of pain, and Castiel looked concerned, holding out a hand to help the hunter off of the floor.

Dean was in his element; ganking Demons was his forte, and with Ruby's knife it was as easy as slicing pie. Mmm, pie, Dean thought dreamily, twisting the knife in a particularly persistent black eyed old woman who just wouldn't go down. He bet Bobby had some pie. He'd raid the fridge when they arrived back there later.

Dean drew his knife out and chanced a quick glance over towards the others. He froze immediately when he saw that Cas wasn't where he'd seen him moments before. Scanning the gaggle of Demons closing in around him for a glimpse of beige, he caught sight of him, back turned to the on-going fight, leaning down over something.

WHAT WAS HE DOING?! Dean wasted no time, and began shoving Demons out of his way, ganking a couple in the process. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure heading speedily in the same direction, towards Castiel's turned back.

Dean started to move faster, but the Demons were pushing at him from all sides. He plunged the knife in time and again, trying to steal glimpses of the rapidly advancing figure getting closer and closer to Cas. Was that a glimpse of bright, shiny silver in its hand? Did it have an Angel sword?!

Fuck, Dean thought, and barrelled through the Demons in front of him, not caring that they clawed and bit at him as he went. With seconds to spare he dived in front of Castiel's back, throwing his arms out as if he were a human shield. The figure sprinted at him and Dean plunged the knife straight into its heart with such force it was knocked to the ground.

Castiel turned at the sudden commotion behind him. He took in the sight of Dean, pulling a bloodied knife out of a Demon sprawled on the floor, its now lifeless fingers clutching an Angel sword, and his eyes widened. Dean straightened up, his breathing ragged, and met Castiel's amazed gaze.

Sam, still sprawled on the floor, eyes closed, began to mutter a demon exorcism under his breath.

* * *

It seemed to Dean that he blinked and the Demons were gone, their unconscious vessels crumpling to the ground as the viscous black smoke escaped into the air above them. To Sam, of course, it took a good few minutes of quietly spurting out Latin phrases while his brother eye-fucked an Angel and didn't seem to notice the screaming.

Sam sat up once he was done, and got to his feet easily, collecting the dropped shotgun on the way. Castiel managed to tear his gaze away from Dean long enough to look at him confusedly.

"Sam? You're alright?" Castiel asked.

"Err, yeah. Guess so! Demons must have cast a weird spell on me or something." Sam replied, pretending to check himself all over for any injuries. Castiel's eyes narrowed and raked over Sam's form, scrutinising. Sam bent down over the Demon by Dean's feet, his brow furrowing at the sight of the sword in its hand. Where did he get that from? Sam guessed he shouldn't be too surprised. It was the Goddamn apocalypse after all.

Suddenly, Dean grabbed hold of Cas's shoulder and yanked him round so that they were face to face again.

"And what the hell do you think you were playing at?!" Dean demanded angrily, jabbing Cas's shoulder with his finger for emphasis. Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean got there first. "I'm taking care of a Demon gangbang over there and I look up to see you, back turned on the whole damn spectacle, crouching down over God knows what – and I'm sure whatever it was was a lot more  _interesting_ than the current situation but-"

"Dean, I was helping Sam!" Castiel interrupted, his voice raised. Dean stopped mid-rant to glance at Sammy, who shrugged and nodded.

"Oh." Dean said, the anger seeping out of his tensed shoulders. "O-okay. You err… okay now, Sammy?" Dean asked, sounding mildly distressed. Cas looked away, folding his arms defiantly.

"I'm fine, Dean. Let's go find this Spirit thing or whatever." Sam said, and started to meander over to the cottage door again.

"Cas, just… please. Be more careful. ...Please." Sam heard Dean say as he walked away. He risked a glance back over his shoulder just in time to see Cas place a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder. The gashes covering Dean's arms were gone almost instantly, as though they were never there. Bingo, Sam thought, nice one Cas. "You scared me, man." Dean mumbled, looking at his feet, and Sam barely caught it.

* * *

  _Phase Three of The Plan: Place them in increasingly romantic situations._

 

 

Sam sank into a seat at the kitchen table. Phase Three of the plan was going to be difficult, he could tell. They had arrived back at Bobby's at around nine, after a pretty dicey trip down to the cellar of the abandoned cottage, where they'd had to burn an worn, silvery tapestry that a certain violent spirit had grown particularly attached to. The Demons had been using the tapestry to control the Spirit and use it as a ghostly weapon. Damn Demons.

Unfortunately - and when wasn't this the case - the violent spirit didn't seem too pleased about the Winchester's (and Castiel's) sudden appearance in its territory, and let's just say Sam now had significantly singed hair as a result. He'd chosen to ignore Dean's comments about it being the first decent haircut he'd had in five years.

Sam looked around him, taking in the dust-laden piles of books scattered over every available surface, the plates cluttered in and around the yellowing sink, the empty whiskey bottles and beer cans gathered around the bin. Hmm, not exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd thought of 'romantic'.

Dean had disappeared towards the living room pretty quickly after they'd stumbled through the back door, after a quick detour to the kitchen to raid the fridge of course, mumbling 'sweet, sweet pie' under his breath and calling a quick hello to Bobby, who grunted in his direction from behind the desk. Bobby had told Sam on the phone before they left their last job that he'd been roped into doing the research for a couple of old hunter friends. They'd apparently discovered some kind of haunted Egyptian burial site in Detroit of all places. Translation: Bobby was going to be AWOL for a while. Sam still nodded at him in greeting.

Castiel had disappeared almost immediately, announcing to Sam that he would return in precisely seventeen minutes. Sam suspected he and Dean were feeling a little uneasy about the whole saving-Cas's-life thing, probably especially Cas, who was not so used to being the one in need of saving.

He was going to need to take action, and fast, before Dean came up with another preposterous reason to be mad at Cas again, and pick another pointless fight. Sam's stomach rumbled, interrupting his thoughts. Man, this shipping business was starting to take over his life! He'd forgotten to eat anything today, being so preoccupied with the Destiel plan. Suddenly, an idea flew into Sam's mind and he raced into the living room, tripping over a book on the history of Witchcraft as he went.

He vaguely heard a murmur of 'Idgit' from behind him.

"Hey Dean, do you fancy going out for some food?" Sam asked, trying not to let excitement seep into his voice. Dean was sprawled across the couch on his back, his eyes closed and the plate which had once held a large slice of apple pie now resting on his chest. He made a noncommittal noise and didn't open his eyes.

"We could take Cas. C'mon, you know you like that place down the road. You can have more pie." Dean opened his eyes once at the word 'Cas' and then again at the word 'pie'. He sat up at length, giving a huge, shuddering sigh like he was making a tremendous sacrifice.

"Alright, alright. Get your coat Samantha." Sam grinned. "Where's Cas?"

"I'm here." Castiel said, having just materialised at the end of the couch behind Dean's head. Dean jumped and stood up quickly, his eyes avoiding the Angel's.

"Right, cool. Okay. Right." Dean didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Castiel watched him curiously as he floundered, eventually resting his hands on his hips. "I'll drive." Dean squeaked, and hurriedly left the room.

Castiel turned his inquisitive gaze upon Sam, who shrugged as if Dean was just being weird and he had no idea what the hell was wrong.

* * *

"For the thousandth time, Dean. I'm sorry!" Sam said again, his hands in his lap, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

"You confused me with promises of pie! We know that damn diner closes at five! We've been there enough times, jeez." Dean hissed at him, sounding accusatory.

Upon finding that what Dean had christened the 'pie diner' was closed, the three of them had set off looking for another suitable establishment that would suit the eldest Winchester's pastry needs. It became obvious after five minutes of wandering up and down the same street in what had turned out to be a very cold night, the only place open this late that didn't look like it would come with a side serving of Salmonella or Rohypnol was a place called 'The Blue Palm'.

They went inside, after much debate, and found themselves ushered into a booth with a bottle of the house red wine before they could even blink. When they did look around however, Sam had to hide his giggle. It was too perfect. The place was large, with sparsely placed tables, each with only two chairs, hence their need to crowd into a booth. There was low blue and purplish lighting so that you had to peer at each other in the gloom… or else get really close. There were even candles on the tables, each in a royal blue loveheart shaped jar, setting off the perfect,  _romantic_ atmosphere.

Castiel, for his part, seemed totally at ease over on his side of the booth, looking around him with interest at the several other couples threading their fingers together and spooning pudding into each other's mouths. Dean glared at him, presumably angry because he was daring not to look uncomfortable with the situation.

Their waitress returned, a pretty brunette with big, full red lips.

"Are you ready to order, gentlemen?" She said in a low, sultry voice, barely carrying over the gentle piano music that wafted through the air around them.

Sam stayed silent, only because he was fully expecting Dean to pipe up with a radically inappropriate and blatantly flirtatious comment aimed at the woman before them. When nothing came, Sam turned to his brother in shock, only to find his brother absolutely transfixed on Castiel's fingers, which were dancing back and forth through the flame of the candle. Sam turned quickly back to the waitress, who was tapping her pen against her pad impatiently now, but still smiling.

"Um, can we have a few more minutes please?" He said, glancing back at Dean who had lifted his gaze to Castiel's mesmerised face now, illuminated in part by the flickering candle.

"Of course, Sir." The waitress replied pleasantly. "I'll just pour your wine."

She upturned each of their glasses and poured out the crimson liquid. Sam watched, Dean didn't stop staring at Castiel the whole time. The waitress left and Castiel's eyes flicked up to Dean's at last. He smiled, causing the hunter to immediately turn bright red (much to Sam's amusement) and turn his attention to the large glass of alcohol now in front of him.

"Seriously, Sam. This is the kind of place I make fun of guys like us for going to. And I make fun of them for going with  _girls._ " Dean complained, placing his glass back down and leaning back against his seat.

"I quite enjoy the atmosphere." Castiel said, taking them both by surprise. Sam felt Dean tense a little beside him. "The music is soothing. And although at first I found the dim lighting to be impractical and irritating, I now find it to be most aesthetically pleasing." As he said the last part, his eyes caught Dean's again, as if trying to convey a secret message.

Sam smiled and took a sip of wine, enjoying the show. "I agree." He said, smiling at Castiel warmly. "Don't you think this lighting is particularly flattering for my brother, Cas?"

Castiel blushed, mumbling something unintelligible and Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. He looked as if he was about to make a retort, but at that moment, the waitress swept back over to their table.

"Have you decided yet, gentlemen?" She asked, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Yeah, sure whatever." Dean said, clearly willing to do anything to put an end to the current conversation. "Three cherry pies."

"But Dean, I don't eat-"

"I'll have yours!" Dean hissed at Castiel, leaning towards him to shut him up before he could spit the words out. Sam laughed into his hand. Sharing food? How adorable. "He'll have the pie, please." Dean confirmed, giving the waitress his most charming smile.

"Oh… I  _see_." The waitress said, a huff of laughter escaping her lips as she scribbled down the unusual order. "I was talking with the girls in the kitchen, we were starting to wonder if all three of you were..."

Sam's brow creased at her words. He looked around the table and saw two equally bemused expressions mirrored back at him.

"Would you like me to put two of the slices on one plate and give you a single spoon?" She enquired, looking Dean straight in the eye, her smile wider now, and her gaze flickering over to Cas every few seconds. Their faces must have been blank because she felt the need to explain further. "Many of our customers take us up on that little extra we offer. They seem to find it makes for a more… intimate setting." She gestured around her at the couples indulging in the 'one plate, one spoon' offer. They certainly looked intimate. Sam expertly turned his burst of laughter into a coughing fit.

Dean just stared at the woman, his mouth open, seemingly unable to believe what she was implying. He glanced over at Cas, who was smiling innocently, still gazing around him at the splendour of the restaurant.

"No worries." She said, after a few awkward moments of Dean not saying anything. "I'll give you one spoon between you two, and you can always ask for another one. By the looks of you two though, I doubt you'll be needing two!" She winked at Dean inclining her head once more towards Castiel, as if it weren't already completely obvious what she meant, and bustled back to the kitchen, leaving Dean staring dumbly after her.

He glanced at Sam next to him, who was still giggling to himself, and jabbed him sharply in the ribs with his elbow.

"Dude, shut up!" Dean cried indignantly. "Did she think me and Cas were gay?!"

At that, Castiel whipped his head back round, seemingly landing back in the conversation. His blue eyes grew round and surprised, and Sam could swear he heard Dean's breath catch.

"Oh come on, can you blame her?!" Sam couldn't help responding, still smiling away to himself.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?!" Dean cried, loudly enough to make some couples at nearby tables look around, their mouths still filled with pudding.

"I'm quite hurt actually. She seemed to forget all about me once she picked up on the chemistry between you two-" Sam began and Dean shoved him hard in the shoulder.

"Sam! It's not funny! She-"

"Dean, it's fine, it doesn't matter." Castiel began in a low, urgent voice, placing a calming hand on Dean's arm. Dean looked down at where Cas's fingers rested on his skin and stopped talking abruptly.

"Anyway…" Sam said, starting to slide out of the booth. Dean looked up, startled. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Give you guys some privacy." Sam couldn't resist adding that last part, and he winked as he wandered off into the bluish gloom.

Dean looked up at Cas's face a little reluctantly, very aware of the heat radiating into his skin from the Angel's hand. _Just a little higher up that arm is the handprint he gave me when he yanked me out of Hell_ , he thought, and shivered.

"You're cold." Castiel observed, and his brow creased.

"What? Oh. No, I'm just…"  _Just what_ , Dean thought,  _just shuddering because I was thinking about you touching me in other places?_ "Yeah. I'm cold. It's cold in here. Brrrr." Dean corrected himself, giving a dramatic shiver for emphasis.

Castiel's lips pressed together in concern, and he lifted his hand off of Dean's arm. Dean wanted to cry out at the loss of contact suddenly. He only felt a little pathetic for it, too. Castiel began sliding towards the edge of his seat, and Dean watched him, confused, as he stood up. Well it was a little strange, considering Angels didn't need the bathroom.

Then, before Dean could protest (though he didn't know for sure that he would have done) Cas was walking around the table and sliding in next to Dean, shimmying right up next to him until the hunter was pressed against the wall. Dean gulped. He wasn't prepared for that. He could feel Castiel's thigh pressed hotly against his own, their arms trapped together in between them. Castiel's face was very near to his, and he could see every fleck of cerulean in his shining eyes.

Dean wasn't saying that having his Angel snuggle up next to him to keep him warm had given him a boner, but he'd also be lying if he said he didn't have one. Castiel shuffled closer, as if that was possible.

* * *

Sam didn't say anything when he came out of the bathroom to find his seat had been stolen by Castiel, who was practically on Dean's lap, but that might have been on account of the warning look Dean shot him from where he was pressed into the corner. Instead, Sam smirked, took a seat opposite and waited for his pie.


	2. Chapter 2

_Phase Four of The Plan: Laundry malfunction_

"What the hell, Sam?!"

"Dean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Sam tried to say, but Dean was apparently livid.

"How many times have we done the same damn laundry, Sam?!" Dean yelled, bare chested in the middle of the upstairs bedroom.

They'd returned to Bobby's extremely late last night, and Sam only just scrounged up the energy to trudge up the stairs and into the bedroom he'd shared with Dean whenever they'd stayed here as kids. Lying in his single bed though, he couldn't help overhearing the murmur of voices from downstairs. Bobby was surely in bed, so it must have been Dean and Cas, he'd reasoned, straining to make out what they were saying. He thought he heard a muffled 'see you in the morning, Dean' and then he heard his brother creep up the stairs and into the bed on the other side of the room.

* * *

When Sam woke in the morning, he could feel his brain screaming at him to act on phase four of the plan, and as sleeping beauty himself would probably not arise until at least noon, he decided that right then was the perfect moment to act. He threw one of his old toy army men at Dean's snoozing form just in case. His brother groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

Sighing, Sam grabbed Dean's backpack from where he'd carelessly slung it down by his bed the night before, and set off. That was two hours ago. Okay, so maybe it was a little mean to accidentally-on-purpose wash Dean's ridiculously clingy shirts at the hottest temperature the machine allowed. Especially when Dean had given him at least a dozen lectures on how to properly care for his cotton-polyester blends.

"You have to wash on a low heat, with a  _light_ load and then dry for a  _maximum_ of twenty minutes! What have you done to my clothes, Sam?!"

Dean held a black t-shirt out at arm's length. It now resembled child's fancy dress top. Sam stifled a giggle.

"Dean, you're overreacting. Look, just put it on. I'm sure it's not that bad."

Dean gave him a glare that would have made fire-breathing dragons cower in fear, and stuck his arms through the sleeves, yanking the shirt over his head with considerable effort. If Sam laughed, it was entirely not his fault. It must have just been a reflex or something. There was absolutely nothing remotely humorous about the way the shirt clung to Dean's every curve and muscle, as if someone had painted his biceps and torso black. Similarly, it was not in the least bit funny how the shirt rode up above his brother's bellybutton, showing off his stomach muscles as if he had chosen to flaunt them proudly to the occupants of Bobby's household.

"Sam, if you don't stop laughing so help me I will shave your head while you're sleeping." Dean growled through gritted teeth, his arms stuck out slightly as though they wouldn't quite rest by his sides.

Sam wiped a tear from his eye and tried to speak through the bubbles of laughter still threatening to escape. "Sorry, Dean." He paused. "Say, where are the other Chippendales today?"

Dean's eyes widened and his face became murderous. He lunged at Sam, trying to grab a fistful of plaid shirt, but instead only managing to rip his own plastered-on tee down the front, giving it a slight V-neck. Sam artfully darted out of his way as his brother chased him round the room, jumping across the beds and narrowly missing Dean's angry hands.

"What's wrong Dean? Have you misplaced your stripper pole again?" Dean clutched at the air as Sammy dived onto the floor, just slipping past Dean's fingers. "I'm sorry, Dean! I don't have any dollars for your panties today, okay?! I only have twenties so you're gonna have to put on a good sho-"

"Samantha I am gonna KILL YOU!" Dean yelled, diving on top of Sam and wrestling him to the floor, ripping his shirt almost all the way down the back in the process. Sam yelped and laughed, trying to push him off.

"Um, hello Dean. Sam." The brothers instantly froze at the sound of the familiar deep voice coming from the corner of the room. Sam just looked surprised, but Dean's face was one of pure horror, and he leapt off Sam quickly, crossing his arms over his chest, presumably to obscure the worst of the obscenely fitting t-shirt from view.

"Cas." Dean choked out in greeting, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I apologise if I interrupted your family bonding-"

Sam barked out a laugh at that from his position still sprawled on the floor. Dean's way of family bonding sure was strange. Well, he supposed his way of family bonding was a bit unorthodox too.

"No, no of course not, I like it when you- um… you should come by more… what's up, Cas?" Sam watched his brother stumble through that sentence like a teenage girl and smiled widely. He should have become a fangirl years ago.

Cas was quiet for a few moments, his eyebrows knitted together as if attempting to work out the meaning behind the first half of what Dean had just said. At length, he seemed to give up, and said, "I may have discovered someone in the local area who happens to be an expert on fallen Angels. His name is Dr Lester. He is a Professor of Mythology at the local University. I believe he may have some key information regarding the destruction of Lucifer."

Sam listened quietly, raising himself up onto his elbows to see Castiel better. "But Cas, don't you know everything there is to know about fallen Angels?" He asked, gently.

"My knowledge on that particular subject is limited. There is little one can learn about the experience without actually falling themselves. Or so I would imagine." Castiel replied, looking a little guilty. Sam wondered what he was thinking.

"Well, cool. Okay. Let's go." Dean said, clearly not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

Castiel looked at Dean properly for the first time, his eyes raking once over his body. "I would suggest putting on some pants, Dean." Castiel said, the corner of his mouth twitching as though threatening to break into a smile. Then he disappeared, and they heard Bobby yell "Christ in a hammock!" from downstairs, meaning he'd gone to wait for them below.

Sam chuckled, got to his feet and threw a pair of freshly washed jeans at Dean, who stood there, fuming. "Sam these are gonna be like a freaking Ken doll's pants! Give me some of yours!"

Sam laughed again and shook his head. "Mine will be way too big, you know that. You're always going on about how I have to buy Sasquatch size clothes. You'd be falling flat on your face every few steps!" Dean looked exasperated, and pinched the bridge of his nose. The movement caused his sprayed-on t-shirt to rip a little under the arm. "Here, I have an idea." Sam said suddenly, hiding his smile as he grabbed the jeans back.

Oh yes, Sam Winchester was going to go down in Destiel shipper  _history_ for this.

* * *

"Sam,  _no._  This is a classy place. I'm not coming in, not while you're dressed like that I'm dressed like  _this._ " Dean had been saying similar things for the past ten minutes as Sam helplessly tried to coax him from the car and into the building.

"Dean, look it's ten minutes, tops, and then you'll never have to see him, or anyone else here again!" Sam tried, pulling on Dean's arm through the open passenger side door. In his trademark FBI suit and tie, the younger Winchester was fine, if a little toasty.

"We're not even that far from Bobby's! What if someone recognises me?!" Dean hissed.

"Why would anyone at a University, Dean? I know you think you're still twenty-one - you're outfit proves that much - but-"

"Sam, I won't tell you again-"

"Dean, I must agree with your brother. I feel it would be mutually beneficial if you accompanied us, considering you are the Righteous Man and an intended vessel of one of Heaven's Archangels." Castiel interrupted. Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, since Dean adamantly refused to let him come in the car with them, but at some point he had materialised next to Sam, and apparently grown tired of watching Sam's futile attempts to persuade Dean out of the car.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. You're right, Cas." Dean agreed, looking at his lap, as if he had only just heard any reasonable argument as to why he should come along.

Sam's mouth fell open and he dropped Dean's arm. Ten minutes of pleading and bribing had gotten Sam nowhere, but one little word from his precious  _Angel_ and he was practically chomping at the bit to sit opposite Dr Whatshisface and play dumb about the so-called soldiers of Heaven.

Dean took a deep breath in, and swung a leg out of the car, exposing a long, tanned shin, sparsely covered in pale brown hair. Just above the knee was the frayed end of what was once a pair of Dean's favourite jeans, now bound so tightly round his thigh that he could swear it was cutting off circulation.

Castiel sucked in a surprised breath, but then he was never able to hide his emotions. Dean grimaced and stepped all the way out of the car, showing off his equally bare left leg, made even more absurd by the bulky black hiking boots on his feet. Dean turned around to slam the door closed and the two other members of the trio got an impressive view of Dean's ass, crammed so tightly into the cut offs that the seams were beginning to strain.

"Oh." Castiel said, and Sam actually had to turn away to disguise his hysterics. Dean spun around quickly, cheeks flaming, and looked nervously at Castiel. "I see the problem…"

Castiel walked towards Dean slowly, his hand raised in front of him as though he were approaching a wild animal. Dean glanced around the nearby area anxiously, his gaze flickering back to Castiel the closer he got. People were starting to notice Dean's strip of bared midriff. There was some sniggering.

Castiel placed a hand tentatively upon Dean's shoulder, and Dean felt goosebumps ripple across his skin as Cas's fingers brushed over his handprint scar. Sam glanced back at them, giggles still escaping every time he thought about the ridiculously tight pants currently wrapped around his brother's legs. Dean seemed to have tensed slightly, and his face looked mildly alarmed. Castiel seemed oblivious to this reaction and was curiously running his hands over the thin material of Dean's thoroughly stretched t-shirt, apparently entranced by the outlines of Dean's pectoral muscles.

Sam swore he saw his brother shudder under Castiel's exploring fingers. All at once, the eldest Winchester seemed to notice his brother watching the scene with a knowing smile on his face. He grabbed hold of Castiel's wandering hands, making the Angel look up at him in surprise. Dean seemed momentarily distracted by Castiel latching his azure gaze onto his, but quickly snapped out of it and looked over at Sam.

"Okay, enough laughing at the Emperor's Shrunken Clothes, let's go already." Dean said gruffly. Sam smiled and shook his head at Dean, but started to make his way over to the building.

"C'mon Cas. Let's… just… later, okay? Right now we need to-"

"I quite agree, Dean. Could you perhaps release my hands?" Castiel interrupted, and Dean looked down to see Castiel's fingers were still gripped tightly in his. He flushed and dropped them like they were burning.

"Sorry. I… um…" Dean mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

"I think I may have a solution to the current clothing crisis." Castiel said, his mouth tilted up slightly in a small smile. He stepped back a little from Dean and began shuffling his coat down his arms, shaking it until he was freed.

Dean had several conflicting reactions.  _Is the only solution he can think of really to start stripping off himself? Can't he just mojo me up some pants that fit?_ On one hand, he thought he should definitely stop Cas, be the responsible human and inform his Angel of Earth's general disapproval of public nudity, but on the other hand… Cas was stripping. And that was a hell of a strong counter-argument.

Castiel interrupted Dean's internal conflict however when he stopped the striptease as soon as the coat was off, and held it out to Dean, smiling.

_Oh._

Dean took it gratefully and quickly wrapped it round himself, shielding his poor exposed belly button from view. It smelled delicious, like rainwater and pinecones and  _Cas._ Dean tried not to be too obvious about sniffing one of the lapels. Cas chuckled, and Dean looked up at him, returning his smile.

"Thanks, Cas."

"Don't mention it, Dean. Are you ready to go?" Castiel replied, and Dean nodded, slightly mesmerised by the sight of Castiel without his coat. He had seen Jimmy Novak wearing just the suit underneath the coat once before, but that was so obviously  _not Cas_ that Dean hadn't thought twice about it.

Cas turned to head towards where Sam had disappeared into the building, and Dean admired the beautifully tailored jacket as it clung to the Angel's waist.  _Hmm,_ Dean thought, the trenchcoat flapping around the bare skin of his legs as he followed,  _I wonder what he looks like without the jacket?_

* * *

Sam grabbed his laptop out of his backpack and strode up the stairs the second they got back, figuring he deserved a little fangirling time, considering all the hard work he'd been dedicating to the Destiel cause recently. Dean ambled into the kitchen, presumably to raid the fridge, and Castiel followed him like the obedient puppy-angel he was. The moment he got to the bedroom, Sam closed the door, shucked off his jacket and sat back on the bed, pulling his laptop onto his knee.

While he waited for it to boot up, he stretched out his arms, hearing some joints pop after what had been a thoroughly exhausting day. Interviewing Dr Lester had got them nowhere, and it became apparent after the old guy started repeating himself for the third time that he was in the first stages of Alzheimer's.

So, being no closer to finding out how to kill Lucifer, Sam was not a happy bunny and began the journey home feeling irritable and mildly despairing. That was the moment when Dean decided to throw yet another hissy fit, announcing that Sam owed him an entire new wardrobe after having  _ruined_ everything he currently owned. So reluctantly, purely to shut Dean up, Sam turned the car around and headed back into town, where he spent the next few hours traipsing round after Dean as he leered at shopkeepers (and Cas), strutted in front of changing room mirrors, and piled his arms high with shopping bags.

The Supernatural Society homepage flashed onto the screen at last, and Sam let out a dreamy sigh as he clicked on the SlashFanChat link. Seeing that Destiel4eva and MrsDeanWinchester1997 were both online, he immediately requested a private chat with them both.

**Destiel4eva: look who it is! Our newest member of the Destiel fanclub haha**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: How's the shipping coming along, newbie? ;)**

Hmm, Sam thought, his brow furrowing. Newbie? If only they knew the extent of my shipping efforts... Well, presumably everyone would know one day, if Chuck ever got around to publishing any new stuff.

**Samfan69: Haha, hi guys! It's going good actually. I'm pretty sure Destiel is almost completely canon.**

He'd googled 'canon' on his phone earlier whilst Cas tried to offer his limited opinion on the colour co-ordination of the jacket and shirt Dean was trying. Dean only seemed to need to know that Cas liked it, and it was added to the pile.

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Almost completely? Dude, they are SO canon.**

**Destiel4eva: omg I'm gonna find you some fanfics.**

**Samfan69: …**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: You have read fanfiction before… right?**

**Samfan69: No?**

**Destiel4eva: omg! No wonder you're unconvinced!**

**Samfan69: Oh, trust me, I'm not unconvinced.**

A vivid memory of Castiel tracing his fingers over the ridges of Dean's prominent stomach muscles sprang into his mind. He shuddered.

**Destiel4eva has sent you a file. Open this file?**

**Destiel4eva: read that one, it's perfect. So cute.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997 has sent you a file. Open this file?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997 has sent you a file. Open this file?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: And those two! They're my favourites! They are so hot… just unf.**

Sam's cursor hovered over one of the links. Swallowing down his inhibitions, he clicked, and began to read.

**Destiel4eva: …hello?**

**Destiel4eva: where'd he go?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Maybe he's just… um… busy ;)**

**Destiel4eva: haha!**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: We're like prophets, spreading the word of Destiel throughout the Supernatural kingdom.**

**Destiel4eva: we are truly doing the work of Gods. Well. Chuck.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Imagine if Chuck was God LOL**

**Samfan69: Hey… guys? What's a wing!kink?**

* * *

_Phase Five of The Plan (just updated): Get Castiel to show his wings_

Sam skipped down the stairs the next morning, a grin on his face and his mind buzzing with new information. He had spent a good deal of last night (and the early hours of the morning) reading pages and pages of Destiel fanfiction that his two partners in crime had sent over. At first it was shocking to read about his brother and Cas in some very -ahem- compromising positions, but he skipped over the extremely smutty bits, not particularly wanting to read a two-paragraph long description of his brother's erect penis, and was soon able to gather together some ideas for his Destiel Plan.

He had updated Phase Five just this morning, after reading a particularly steamy fic based off of that 'Angels will fall' Lynx advert he kept seeing on TV.

Upon entering Bobby's living room he stopped dead in his tracks, the whistle on his lips dying and turning into a surprised huff of air. On the couch in front of the window, which was now Bobby's makeshift bed – though Sam suspected he'd just been taking short naps in his chair since his hunter pals had asked him to work this case two days ago – was Castiel, sitting in a far too-upright-to-be-human position, leaning back against the cushions a little as if trying to give the illusion of comfort.  
That was normal.  
Slumped over him, his head lolling on Cas's shoulder and his arm wrapped around Castiel's middle with his feet up on the sofa was Dean, fast asleep.  
That was not so normal.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at Castiel, who had a vaguely pleased expression on his face. The Angel looked down at the sleeping hunter draped across him and shrugged with one shoulder, trying not to disturb him.  _Whatever,_ thought Sam,  _as long as he doesn't mind._

Sam crept across the room as quietly as he could, and entered the kitchen, crossing to the kettle and filling it up at the yellowing sink.

"Hey Bobby." Sam called to the old hunter, who was partially obscured by the piles of books towering on his desk. Bobby grunted in response and scribbled something down furiously. "Getting anywhere?"

"Nah. There is absolutely no record of this place in any of my books." Bobby said, sounding disheartened. Sam pulled a sympathetic face. They both knew that even if Sam offered to help now, it would take him days to catch up on all the information Bobby had already found.

"What do your friends think it is?" Sam asked, desperate to be helpful in some small way.

Bobby slammed the book he was reading shut and rested his head in his hands. "Apparently they managed to accidentally dig up some kind of weird Egyptian shrine when they were looking for bones to burn, and now they've got a pissed off psycho-Pharaoh on their hands." Bobby sighed and lifted his weary gaze to Sam. "I can't find a damn thing about anything like that in  _Detroit_. I don't know what to tell them."

Sam was thoughtful as he poured out three mugs of coffee. "Why don't me and Dean go down there? Take a look around, see if we can find anything?"

Bobby sat back in his chair, relieved. He looked like he wanted to kiss Sam. "You're a damn hero in my eyes, boy. You gonna take Cas?"

Sam laughed and started methodically spooning half a packet of sugar into Dean's mug. "Yeah, probably. I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon."

Bobby chuckled and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Yeah, no kidding. You catch a glimpse of the princess snuggled up to his guardian Angel last night? I went in there to get a book on mummification rituals and nearly fell off my chair."

"I know. Sickening." Sam agreed, smiling along with Bobby before placing a steaming mug down in front of him.

"Well, whatever makes him happy, I guess. God knows that boy deserves happy." Bobby said, sleep thickly coating his voice as he reached limply for the coffee.

Sam laughed, thinking Bobby must be really tired if he was saying anything that soppy. He was glad Bobby would be on board with the whole Destiel thing though, when it eventually became 'canon'. And it would. Sam was making sure of it.

"Okay, I'll go tell the BFFL's." Sam said, smiling at Bobby as he left the room with the remaining two cups of coffee.

* * *

It took a lot of prodding and shoving to get Dean to open his eyes. Cas, for his part, just sat there, staring down at Dean adoringly as Sam yelled at him to get up.

Dean blinked blearily awake when he smelled coffee, and swung his legs down off of the sofa reluctantly. He sat up lazily, looking around him and yawning. Sam was stood in front of him, his bitchface firmly in place and holding out a mug of coffee. Dean took it gratefully and pretended to listen to Sam's whiny rant about how he had been a hunter for God knows how many years and should be used to getting up at a reasonable hour by now blah blah blah.

Dean gulped down a mouthful of coffee and turned his face away from Sam, noticing for the first time that he was not alone on the couch. He froze, mug halfway to his lips and took a few moments to drink in the sight of Castiel beside him, smiling away, his coat and jacket quite obviously absent. Well, it was obvious to him.

Dean's brain finally seemed to kick in and he glanced away in horror as it began to register that he had been sleeping on something – something that was not couch. He ran through a quick memory of last night and remembered coming back, having one or two (or was it three? four?) cans of beer, demanding that Castiel sit on the couch and watch his fashion parade as he modelled the new clothes he had bought.

He didn't remember passing out on Cas's shoulder, but it seemed very much as though that is what had happened. Oh God…

Where was Sam last night?! He usually kept Dean under control in situations like that! But then his little brother had been acting really weirdly recently in regards to him and Cas. Oh God, oh God.

He looked back to Castiel, who was still smiling.  _Well, at least I don't seem to have done any irreparable damage?_

"Dean?  _Dean?_  Are you listening to me?" Sam asked, his voice only just piercing through Dean's cacophony of humiliating thoughts.

"Um, no." Dean replied, and he couldn't seem to stop staring at the way Castiel's smile lit up his blue eyes.

"For Christ's sake Dean, would you stop eyefucking your boyfriend for two seconds? Bobby needs our help!"

Dean's head whipped around to face Sammy at last, a thunderous expression only just masking the flush underneath. Castiel seemed remarkably nonplussed. "What?!"

"Just… listen to me, Dean." Sam explained the Bobby situation as best he could, and managed to get to a point where all three of them were in agreement that they needed to set off for Detroit. And quickly.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna go have a shower, then we'll go." Dean said crossly, still obviously bristling from Sam's 'boyfriend' comment earlier. Okay, maybe that had been a bit reckless considering Dean wasn't aware of the extent of his feelings yet, but man, sometimes Dean really pushed Sam's buttons.

Dean stood up, mug in hand, and stretched a little, his joints popping. Sam grinned. What a perfect time to start putting Phase Five into action!

"Say, Cas?" Sam asked, trying to sound as innocent as humanly possible. Dean lifted his mug to drain the last of his coffee. "How come we can't see your wings?"

Several things happened at once then. Dean dropped the mug he was holding, letting it smash onto the hard wooden floor with a tremendous clatter and spill the remnants of his coffee onto Bobby's dark wood panelling. He also started choking and spluttering on the little coffee he had managed to swallow, his face going red as he wheezed, hunched over like an old woman. Castiel's cheeks flushed pink, and he averted his gaze from Sam's, suddenly looking embarrassed, and moments later Bobby wheeled backwards into the room, asking if 'you three hooligans are destroying my house'. Sam's head darted from spectacle to spectacle, his mouth open in wordless joy. Being a fangirl was just so much fun.

* * *

In the time it took for Dean to breathe normally again, with the help of Castiel, who jumped up to aid him by soothingly rubbing a hand over his back, Sam managed to convince Bobby that there was no harm done, and that they'd clean up the mess. Bobby barely understood Sam through the stream of giggles pouring out of the younger Winchester's mouth. Castiel led Dean by the wrist and sat him back down on the couch, placing the hand on his back again as soon as he was settled.

With a sweep of his other hand, the pieces of the mug scattered across the floor were gone and a pristine mug sat unharmed on the ground. Dean's jaw dropped slightly at the sight.

"So… what just happened?" Sam asked, wary of setting off another chain reaction of freak-outs.

"I believe Dean had such a violent reaction to your query because I have had a similar conversation with him previously." Castiel replied, and Sam noticed his cheeks were still tinged pink.

"I'm err… gonna go have that shower now." Dean said quickly, standing up and striding across the room. Castiel's hand remained frozen in the air for a moment, as if not noticing Dean's back was no longer underneath it. Then he dropped it to his lap.

Sam nodded for Cas to elaborate.

"Your senses are too dull to perceive my wings in their true form on this Earthly plane. I am able to manifest a version of them down here, but they would not look like they do in Heaven." Castiel explained, starting to look a little uncomfortable.

"O…kay." Sam said, not really feeling like he understood. "So, why did Dean have a mini fit?"

Castiel shifted in his seat, seeming not to want to answer. After a few moments he sighed. "I explained this to him once already; I can choose to show humans my wings, but it is forbidden because the existence of Angels has been widely disbelieved by the majority of humanity for many decades. As a result, I would not ever willingly show my wings without a viable reason. Even when I first encountered your brother, I only showed him shadows of my true wings." Sam nodded slowly, showing he was on the same page. "There are complications however… my wings can sometimes manifest themselves without my control. This would only ever happen if I were overcome by a particularly strong… feeling."

Sam nodded again, then frowned. "Like what?" He asked.

Castiel sighed like he had been hoping to avoid answering that question. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'you are exactly like your brother'. "Desire, for example, is an emotion well-known to have the ability to overwhelm an Angel to the point where their wings would become visible to humans."

Sam tried not to splutter. "I don't frickin' believe it! It's true!" Sam cried, and he was back in fanfiction world, thinking of the many varieties of ways Castiel had tentatively explained similar things to a lust-filled Dean before they-

"What's true?" Castiel asked, confused, his head tilted slightly.

"N-nothing." Sam said, chuckling. "So if you're overcome with desire… your wings show?" Castiel nodded, looking wary. Hmm, Sam thought, it might be a little difficult to get Castiel aroused enough for that. "But there are other emotions that can make it happen too?"

Castiel started to nod, then seemed to think of something suddenly. "Sam… why are you asking this?" He asked apprehensively.

Sam shrugged in a nonchalant fashion. "I dunno. Just curious, I guess."

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

"Uhm, we ready?" They both turned to see Dean standing in the doorway, his hair dripping rivulets of water down his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt collar. Castiel eyes lingered on the damp skin of Dean's throat and he seemed to immediately forget what they had been talking about. Sam wondered if any feathers were going to pop out of his back.

* * *

Sam had a long time to think about it on the  _14 hour_ drive from South Dakota to Detroit. An emotion that would overcome Castiel as completely as desire. Hmm. It was tricky. He glanced behind him at the Angel himself sitting primly in the backseat. He was staring out of the window, a pleasant smile on his face as though he were remembering something particularly happy. Sam rolled the conundrum around in his mind as he sat shotgun, the windows rolled down and AC/DC blaring out of the speakers.

What kinds of things did Castiel get really emotional about? Aside from getting all gooey over his brother, of course.  _Wait a second!_

An idea suddenly struck Sam and he sat up so suddenly that Dean jumped a little in surprise, thankfully not losing his grip on the steering wheel.

What really gets to Castiel? When people try and hurt Dean. And yeah, sure, usually he only needs his freaking  _bare hands_ to burn Demons out of their meatsuits, or vanquish monsters, but what if he couldn't use his hands? Sam would bet a lot of money that his wings would come into play if they thought they were needed.

Sam rubbed his hands together conspiratorially, grinning.

"Dude, you are really starting to freak me out lately." Dean said, stealing unnerved glances at him every few moments.

_Oh Dean. It's all for your own good._

* * *

They pulled into what might have once been a housing estate, but were now the barren remnants of an area of suburban Detroit. The ground was grey concrete, and there was a half-hearted chainlink fence nearby that led onto a sort of muddy, cracked wasteland. In the centre of the dry earth behind the fence was a hole, not unlike something Dean or Sam might have dug to start out the process of unearthing a coffin.

Without saying much, the three of them grabbed some very basic supplies from the Impala's trunk and set off, Dean breaking through the fence easily with one deft kick. Sam hoped he noticed that Cas had thought not to mojo it open for him this time.

They approached the hole in the earth warily, looking around them for any signs of movement. They had no idea where Bobby's friends had scarpered to, but the sun was beating down on them, shedding its last rays of light before setting, and this place had clearly been a ghost town for some time now.

On closer inspection, the hole became a tunnel, snaking down into the dark earth, and ending up somewhere none of the boys could see.

Sam straightened up after several minutes of peering into the gloom. "Okay, Dean. After you." He gestured to the tunnel before them and stepped back, allowing Dean some room.

"What?! No way, man!" Dean cried, shaking his head. "Rock, paper, scissors."

Sam gulped, but nodded. Castiel watched the arrangement unfold, curiosity etched onto his features.

"One." Dean said, putting his hand behind his back.

"Two." Sam continued, mirroring Dean.

"Three!" They said together, exposing their hands with a flourish.

"Haha! Paper beats rock, Sammy." Dean laughed, and pushed him unceremoniously towards the hole.

"How exactly does paper beat rock, Dean?" Castiel enquired, tilting his head. Before they'd left, Castiel had retrieved his trenchcoat from where, according to Cas, Dean had thrown it carelessly off last night whilst apparently giving a very imaginative and  _musical_ demonstration of each outfit he'd bought while they were out yesterday.

"Yeah, Dean? How does it?" Sam asked, his feet over the lip of the hole, curious as to what Dean's response would be.

Instead of a retort however, the elder Winchester simply came up behind Cas, wrapped one hand around his shoulders and clapped the other one over Castiel's mouth, making the Angel's eyes widen in surprise. Dean smirked a little and nodded towards Sam.

"Off you pop, Sammy. See you down there."

Sam sighed, turned around to face the very grave-like hole in front of him and jumped down.

* * *

Sam looked helplessly around the dark room, the musty, damp air clogging in his throat as he tried to take level breaths. He took in the terrified faces of the man and woman tied together on the other side of the underground cavern. Sam vaguely recognised them as two of Bobby's hunter pals he hadn't seen in years. He thought he could dredge up a memory of John getting into a car with them, telling him and Dean he'd be back in a few days, and to stay with Uncle Bobby till then.

Dean and Cas were over on his left, also tied together, back to back, sitting on the floor like the rest of them. Sam himself was tied to a complete stranger, a young man, judging by the tone of the little whimpering noises emanating from behind him. All in all, Sam wasn't entirely sure how they'd ended up in such a predicament.

If he peered hard at the earthy, greyish walls, he could vaguely make out some very Egyptian-looking hieroglyphics. Well, at least Bobby hadn't been barking up the wrong tree. Within moments of entering the dark, underground room at the end of the tunnel, the Winchesters and Cas had been knocked to the ground by a screeching blur of something distinctly ectoplasmic, which in hindsight was probably this Pharaoh ghost/spirit/whatever they were supposedly here to find.

That was about five minutes ago. Sam caught Dean's eye across the room, wordlessly asking him if he was alright. Dean nodded, looking mildly annoyed at the predicament, but otherwise fine, and glanced over at the shaking man and woman tied together on the other side of the room.

At that moment, a dreadful screech rang through the air again, and Sam wished he had his hands free to clamp them over his ears. The boy he was tied to began struggling furiously at the sound, and clearly that meant bad news.

A very old, very angry looking man flickered into life in front of Sam, and the hunter had to stop himself from exclaiming how cool it was that he was actually wearing a Pharaoh's headdress like the ones he'd read about in history books like the true nerd he was.

"You will pay for interrupting King Khaman's slumber!" The spirit announced in a crackling voice. "One of you! Sacrifice yourself to the God Osiris and let me continue my journey to the afterlife in peace."

Wow, this guy behind him sure could struggle, thought Sam, wincing as the rope tying their hands together chafed his wrists. The Pharaoh-spirit narrowed his eyes when nobody spoke.

"You!" It said, pointing a flickering finger towards the boy behind Sam.  _Dammit,_ thought Sam,  _this is why you should just lay low in these situations._

The spirit disappeared and materialised again closer to Sam and the boy, stretching out a chalky, thin hand towards his victim. The boy started to scream.

"Wait!" Yelled Sam over the noise, his heart hammering, and a desperate plan half-forming in his mind. "Take my brother, Dean! He  _loves_  being sacrificed, he's always banging on about how much he wants to be killed and offered up to Egyptian Gods!"

The spirit froze, and the boy's screaming dulled to a whining whimper once more.

"WHAT?! Sam are you out of your goddamn mind?!" Dean yelled from across the room, starting to struggle himself now.

"Sam, I must agree with Dean, here! We cannot let the boy die, I see that, but there must be an alternative-"

Dean's yell of panic interrupted Cas as the spirit appeared beside him, it's bony fingers reaching out to him menacingly.

"It's okay, Dean!" Sam yelled, trying to sound sure of himself when his heart was racing.  _Oh fuck please don't let me accidentally kill my brother because I want him to be gay for an Angel_ "Cas will save you!"

Castiel stared at Sam, dumbfounded and incredulous, but started to try and struggle out of his bonds anyway. The spirit's fingers edged towards Dean's exposed neck, brushing his skin so that he yelped.

It happened in a flash, and Sam was so glad he got front row seats because  _man,_ this was a once in a lifetime thing to see. Castiel looked around him helplessly, seeming to be practically on the brink of tears, and tried one last futile attempt to release himself from what Sam was starting to suspect were cursed bonds wrapped around his and Dean's wrists.

Then, in an explosive flash of near-blinding white, two enormous ebony wings shot out from Castiel's shoulder blades, their span nearly reaching halfway across the room, the minimal light from the tunnel sliding over the glossy feathers in a magnificent technicolour sheen.

The spirit roared and reeled backwards, giving Castiel enough space to wrap the wings securely around Dean, still sat behind him, enveloping him in the dark black masses. The Pharaoh was not easily put off however, and with a second louder roar he charged at the now completely obscured Dean, only to be ripped apart by flames as the feathery extensions of Cas's grace touched his ghostly flesh.

* * *

Back outside the hole, Dean seemed to be in some kind of trance. Castiel transported them all back outside with a couple of his special forehead taps, the bonds around their wrists having broken as soon as the spirit was vanquished.

Sam took it upon himself to ensure the physical wellbeing of everyone who had been down in the burial site, and get the full story from the other hunters. They'd discovered the site three days ago, and had narrowly escaped the spirit then. Today they'd decided to return, armed with salt and iron etc, only to be immediately captured and held prisoner until the arrival of the Winchester's and Cas. The boy had apparently been there since this morning, having noticed the open tunnel and decided to explore. He had been bunking off school at the time.

Sam turned back to Dean once they were all on their way, (actually receiving a grateful hug from the boy who's life he'd saved) only to find him staring into space, and unresponsive to any questions asked of him.

Castiel appeared suddenly, and… okay wow. His wings in the light of day – well the light of early evening – were nothing short of spectacular. They were  _huge,_ stretching way above his head, the feathers trembling in the slight breeze. The setting sun cast an orangey glow over one of them, giving the illusion of an amber gradient. Sam couldn't take his eyes off them.

Dean whirled around, took in the sight of Cas standing suddenly before them, his wings folded over into his back, and promptly crumpled to the floor.

"Dean!" Cas exclaimed, and immediately reached down to assist him. Dean scrambled along the floor, away from his outstretched hand, and that was the moment Sam noticed the prominent bulge in the front of his jeans.

"Woaaaaaah!" Sam cried, shielding his brother's erection from view with his hand and letting out a high pitched laugh. "I did not need to see that, dude."

"Shut  _up,_ Sam!" Dean growled from down on the ground, quickly getting up and turning away to preserve his modesty.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Cas asked, sounding distressed. "Sam, what's happening?"

"Cas, could you maybe tuck the wings away now?" Sam asked, near helpless with laughter as Dean tried to keep his back turned to Castiel, who was desperately trying to turn him around.

Cas stopped and looked at Sam. "Of course." He replied simply, and in seconds the wings vanished. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, but still didn't turn around.

"Cas." Dean said, through gritted teeth, staring vehemently at the barren landscape in front of him, the city of Detroit just visible through a haze in the distance.

"Yes?"

"Could you take us to a motel or something?" Dean asked.

* * *

Dean burst into the tiny room and headed straight for the bathroom, locking the door behind him with a loud thunk. Sam followed soon after him, and Dean swore he hadn't stopped laughing throughout the entire check-in process, making it extremely difficult for Dean to concentrate on paying, under the circumstances.

Castiel entered the room behind Sam, watching the younger Winchester flop down on one of the beds, rolling over onto his side to let more giggles escape.

"Sam, I don't understand. Is Dean angry with me?" Cas asked, frustrated, walking towards the bathroom door. He turned back to Sam, who had sat up now politely, but was unable to keep the smile off his face. "Is he angry because I saved him again from that spirit? I already told him, I can't help it if my wings decide to manifest themselves of their own accord, and I was so distressed-"

"Cas! Stop, jeez!" Sam cried, standing up and walking towards him, palms outstretched. "Dean's not mad at you. Far from it in fact." He spluttered again there. God he made himself laugh. "Maybe you should go in there and talk to him?" Sam slipped in smoothly, inclining his head towards the bathroom.

"NO NO NO NO, CAS DON'T COME IN HERE!" Dean's shout came loudly through the bathroom door, wiping the hopeful expression on Cas's face clean off.

"Oh, I'm never going to understand him." Cas sighed, walking away to sit on one of the beds. Sam opened his mouth to protest. "Tell him I'm sorry he's upset for whatever reason. I'll be back in the morning to take you to your car."

"You did great, Cas. He really appreciates it." Sam said, looking at him meaningfully. A loud, drawn out moan suddenly pierced through the tense atmosphere, undoubtedly coming from the locked bathroom. Sam bit his lip to keep from falling about laughing again. Castiel looked vaguely concerned, but there was a hint of recognition at the sound in his eyes. Hmm, maybe there was hope for him yet.

"Fuck. Cas…" Dean's voice was hoarse as it snaked out under the door. Castiel turned slightly pink again. " _Cas."_

"I'll um, see you in the morning? Thankyou Sam." Cas said,  _wait was he smirking,_  and then he was gone.

Sam grinned for a moment, breathed out, and then went to pound on the bathroom door to tell his brother to shut the  _fuck up_ because he  _so_ did not need to hear that.

* * *

Dean had passed out on one of the motel beds at around nine, clearly having tired himself out in the bathroom earlier. Not that Sam minded at all, because the moment he was sure Dean was dead to the world, he went to reach for his laptop, only to remember he'd left it in the Impala.

_Damn it,_ he thought glumly, and sat back on the pillows of his bed, feeling incredibly frustrated. His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket and he jumped a little, having forgotten he put it on vibrate that morning in preparation for the hunt. He pulled it out to see several messages flash onto the screen one after another, apparently all coming through at once now that there was a bit of signal and he wasn't _underground._

3 new voicemails, one text and ten missed calls. Sam's eyebrows shot up. Okay, he wasn't exactly billy-no-mates but this seemed a tad excessive.

He opened up the text message.

**Hi Sam!**  
Dnt lstn 2 ur  
voicemails ok?  
I mean, listen to the  
1 frm me obvs,  
but not the other 1  
cosjroeff9u043rj  
fojefqopjfjfSAMDONT  
jodew;owihoiho

Sam's eyebrows rose higher and higher the more he read. Okay… that was extremely odd. The text was from a number he didn't have in his contacts, but it seemed as though whoever it was assumed that he would have. Sam frowned and re-read the text. What was all that gibberish at the end?

He shrugged and closed the message, going onto his missed calls. There were four from the same person who had sent the text - yes that's right,  _four -_ five from a blocked number, and one from Bobby's second cellphone. This was getting more and more strange.

Sam clicked the 'voicemail' button and worriedly raised the phone to his ear, the words 'dnt lstn 2 ur voicemails ok?' swimming around in his mind.

" _You have 3 new messages."_ The automated voice said into his ear. " _First new message; received today at 12:31pm."_ Sam waited apprehensively for the message to play. He started chewing his thumbnail.

"Hey, Sam. It's me, Chuck." Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief, a small smile creeping onto his face as he pictured the dishevelled, probably drunken writer of his favourite storybooks speaking tentatively into the phone. "Listen, I know it's none of my business, and I don't want to meddle in your personal affairs… even though I get front row seats to everything anyway…" Sam rolled his eyes and let his head loll back, wondering if Chuck would get to the point any time soon. "Basically… I know what you've been doing. With the whole… Dean and Castiel thing- HEY! Ow! Becky, stop it,  _ow!_ "

Sam sat bolt upright, his heart hammering. Chuck knew about the Destiel plan? Oh God, what the hell was he going to say? Sam strained to hear the muffled voices, now barely audible through the phone.

"Becky I have to talk to him about this-" Chuck was saying, it sounded like his hand was covering the receiver.

"No, Chuck! Just let things  _unfold_. Sam is doing the work of GODS. Do you understand, Mr Prophet-man? GODS." Becky's voice was unmistakeable. Sam had heard it in his nightmares enough times.

"Becky, just listen to reason, wait… stop! What are you doing… BECKY! Get off! Give me back the pho-"

The message ended abruptly. Sam was frozen, his phone almost shoved down his ear canal from trying to hear the extent of the conversation. Before he had time to absorb what had just happened however, the automated voice was informing him of the next message, received at 12:58pm:

"Hi Sam!" Becky's voice was rushed and breathless, as though she had just been involved in a tussle. "Okay, I have to be quick but I just wanted to say, don't listen to Chuck, he obviously has  _no idea_ and I've been there, I know how it feels to be OVERWHELMED with feels- CALM DOWN CHUCK I WILL BE OUT IN A MINUTE JEEZ -don't worry, you're doing wonderful, wonderful work, I'm so proud of you my gorgeous, flowing-haired stallion-"

Sam spluttered, flushing beetroot, and clapped a hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't wake Dean in the next bed. He heard a crash from the other end of the phone, and then some high pitched yelps from Becky and what was presumably Chuck.

"Okay! Gotta go, it seems my new boyfriend is having a  _leetle_ trouble adjusting- OW, CHUCK I'M NEARLY DONE GO SMASH YOUR FIST ON A KEYBOARD – a little trouble adjusting to the whole homoeroticism thing. He'll come around- I'M COMING, CALM YOUR TITS – _my username is samlicker81! BYE!_ "

Sam's mouth hung slightly open, his eardrum feeling severely bruised by the things he'd just heard. Well, he was pretty sure he knew who the text was from now. He'd deleted Becky off of his phone the moment he'd seen that she'd somehow slipped it into his contacts at that Supernatural Convention he'd accidentally crashed with Dean the other week. God, he'd loved it there. It had almost killed him to pretend he hadn't.

One more message to go. Sam held his breath, silently praying for it to be anyone but Becky's voice cascading down the phone line. He slumped in relief at the sound of Bobby's gravelly tone, and let himself relax as he concentrated on what was being said.

"Heya Sam… just checking in. Let me know how things are going with Mags and Gavin. I'll be here if you need me. As if I could go anywhere else. Alright, bye."

Had Sam ever mentioned how much he loved Bobby's high regard for short and sweet messages? Well, he was mentioning it now. He let the phone slip into his lap, feeling physically exhausted from the onslaught of information he had just received. He didn't know what to do about Chuck. Maybe he'd call him in the morning; he sounded pretty concerned. As for Becky… Sam decided it was probably best not to go there. Though she had given him her username… did that mean she had an account on the Supernatural Society website? That could certainly be interesting.

Sam picked up the phone again and started to punch in Bobby's number, the digits swimming into his mind like familiar friends, and then paused, thinking Bobby could probably stand to wait until morning to get the update.

Deliberating for a moment as the guilt of not calling his basically-dad washed over him, Sam eventually decided to send Bobby a text instead.

**Bobby,**  
thnx 4 the msg.  
hunt went fine,  
ghost ws ganked  
no problem. Cas  
took care of it.  
Mags & Gav are  
kl they are heading  
bk 2 Wshngtn. C u  
soon. Sam x  
P.s Cas got his wngs  
out!

Sam sent the message, hardly caring that it would probably take Bobby half an hour to decrypt the text speak. Normally Sam would have written it out properly, but he was feeling the exhaustion tonight. That was when Sam noticed the gold and black icon standing brightly out from the others on his phone home screen. Sam could have smacked himself in the forehead.

_Of course! I downloaded the Supernatural Society app yesterday! How did I not remember that? This Destiel stuff is taking up space in my mind._

He clicked it eagerly, quickly filling out his login details and signing in to the SlashFanChat (mobile edition). His phone buzzed excitedly, declaring he had a new message from Bobby. Sam considered not reading it - he was busy fangirling! - but clicked it open impatiently.

**From: Bobby**   **(Second cell)  
Idgits.**

Sam's mouth quirked in a slight smile despite the irritation he felt towards Bobby wasting his important Supernatural Society time. Who was Bobby even referring to? It hardly mattered. In Bobby's eyes, everyone was an idgit. Within a few minutes Sam had found his way back to the SlashFanChat and had gotten himself into a private chatroom with his two partners in crime.

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Samfan! We missed you!**

**Destiel4eva: totes.**

**Samfan69: Omg you guys, I have been SO stressed all day.**

**Destiel4eva: :(**

**Samfan69: …Do you have any more fic recs by any chance?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: LOL**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Oh hun, you have come to the right place.**

**Destiel4eva has sent you 3 files. Open these files?**

**Samfan69: You guys are seriously the best. After the way Dean and Cas have been acting around each other… I need some fluff to cleanse my innocent mind.**

**Destiel4eva: dude, I know you're like really into the RP stuff or whatever, but when you talk about them like they're real it's kinda creepy.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Speak for yourself! I love it, it means that I can imagine I live in a place where Dean and I will finally be married…**

**Destiel4eva: dude! Destiel FOREVER?! You can't marry Dean, he's taken.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Sigh. Maybe I'll just have to move on to Sam…**

**Samfan69: Woah! No need for that.**

**Destiel4eva: loool someone's protective of his favourite character ;)**

**Destiel4eva: well sorry Samfan but a lot of shippers would argue that Sammy's taken too.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Yeah, actually you're right. Maybe I can marry Balthazar…**

**Samfan69: Wait, what?! Are you guys talking about Wincest again?**

**Destiel4eva: lol well there are Wincest fans…**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: But there are also Sabriel fans & Samifer fans.**

Sam glanced away from the screen, puzzled. His thumbs hovered in the air over the keys, ready to retort. Sabriel? What could that be? Sam and… OH MY GOD.

**Samfan69: SAM AND GABRIEL?**

**Samfan69: GABRIEL?!**

**Destiel4eva: woah, guessing you're not a fan of that idea?**

**Samfan69: WHY MUST MY BROTHER AND I BE IN THE ARMS OF A FRIGGIN ANGEL THE ENTIRE TIME?!**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Um… cos it's hot?**

**Destiel4eva: dude, third person was invented for a reason. Use it.**

**Samfan69: Sorry. I'm just… adjusting. And what's the other one you said? Samifer?**

**Destiel4eva: Sam/Lucifer**

**Samfan69: What.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: I mean, you can totally see the reasoning behind both: Sam/Gabriel is just perfect Gabriel is to Sam what Dean is to Cas in a way - a sort of ying yang thing going on there. And there's the whole Mystery Spot thing, which was kind mean, yeah, but he did it to help Sam get used to the idea his brother wouldn't be around soon – just like his own big brothers. :(**

**Destiel4eva: Yeah, poor Gabe. He has sibling issues. Maybe he's a little envious of what Sam and Dean have? I really think he sees something in Sam, something enigmatic - Sam keeps on surprising him. And he laaaikes it. :D**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: And then there's Sam/Lucifer, which has that whole 'you're the one Sam, my true vessel, it had to be you' thing going on, plus he let Sammy kiss him when he was pretending to be Jess LOL**

**Destiel4eva: Meh. I prefer Sabriel, personally.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Oh they're both ADORABLE. I don't know which one I ship more to be honest.**

**Samfan69: If I could just interject – EW. Oh, and also EWWWWWWW**

**Destiel4eva: Oh, you'll come around ;) here, read this Sabriel fic it's my favourite.**

**Destiel4eva has sent you a file. Open this file?**

Sam eyed the link warily. His brain was screaming at him to leave it the fuck alone. He chewed his lip, glancing over at his unconscious brother. He downloaded the file and sent it to his email account. He'd save the fanfiction to his files when he finally got back to his computer (just in case).

**Samlicker81 is requesting to join the conversation. Allow this?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Who's that?**

**Samfan69: Oh God…**

The colour drained out of Sam's face.  _Becky_.

**Destiel4eva: BECKS!**

**Destiel4eva has accepted Samlicker81's request.**

**Destiel4eva: HEY BECKS! :D**

**Samlicker81: ohmygosh SAAAAAAAAAM**

**Samfan69: I think I'm gonna go guys…**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: What's going on? Who's Samlicker?**

**Samlicker81: THIS IS SO EXCITING. SAM I'M SO PROUD OF YOU MY DARLING, HERE I DREW YOU SOME FANART.**

**Samlicker81 has sent you 3 image files. Open these files?**

Sam clicked the link with a gulp, only to close the files almost immediately upon seeing them. The first was a rather generously proportioned sketch of Sam standing completely naked on a clifftop, his long chestnut mane flowing in the breeze. The second was Sam again, still naked of course, this time wrapped around a crudely drawn version of his brother, their anti-possession tattoos nearly pressing against each other as they embraced. On the verge of throwing up his last meal, Sam glanced at the final image, which was in short, a very large, very detailed drawing of what was presumably meant to be his own erect penis. He deleted the files with a sharp click.

**Destiel4eva: This is Becky, we met last night in the Wincestiel chat room. Do you know her Samfan?**

**Samfan69: Oh god…**

**Samlicker81: WE KNOW EACH OTHER DON'T WE SAMFAN ;) ;) ;). WE KNOW ALL KIIIINDS OF THINGS ABOUT EACH OTHER.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: I feel like I'm missing something here…**

**Destiel4eva: Same. Nice drawings Becky.**

**Samfan69: Okay, I'm leaving. Nice to talk to you guys again. And err, Becky. Please stop leaving me voicemails.**

**Destiel4eva: LOL**

**Samlicker81: OMG NOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo SAMMY WAIT I LOVE YOU**

**Samfan69 has left the conversation.**

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel fluttered into the motel room the following morning with an air of unease. He had sensed that things would be tense following the events of the previous day, even if he only had a small insight as to why that might be. Dean's reaction to his wings manifesting themselves was… unexpected to say the least. Castiel couldn't help the corner of his mouth quirking up a little at the memory of the noises emanating from the bathroom yesterday. He supposed, in hindsight, he really should have seen it coming. After all, it wasn't exactly the first time was it?

Sam was the first to stir, seeming to sense a presence in the room other than his brother, and luckily not reaching for any weapons when he saw Castiel standing at the foot of the beds, watching the Winchesters sleep. There had been a time, it had lasted a few weeks, wherein the brothers' primary response to Castiel's unexpected appearance was to fire guns, spray salt, throw knives and ask questions later.

"Oh. Hey, Cas." Sam said, giving him a tired smile and rolling over sleepily. Dean stirred at the sound of Cas's name.

"Hello, Sam. I apologise. I didn't mean to wake you." Castiel said politely, silently sending Sam a word of thanks for always treating him so nicely.

"Oh, no worries. I should be getting up anyway. What time is it?" Sam asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"It's 8:30am precisely." Castiel replied, feeling confident about the time he had chosen; the hunters were always setting their electronic alarm systems for this time whenever he accompanied them on a hunt. Sam tried not to groan, and suppressed the urge to fall back against his pillow again. Why had Castiel dropped by so early? They didn't have to be anywhere today!

"Right." Sam said, nodding, and grabbed his pillow to throw it at Dean's head. "Dean. Get up. Cas is here."

Sam swung his legs out of bed and stretched, yawning. Dean finally opened his eyes, just enough to peer at Castiel, who hadn't moved.

"It's too damn early." Dean mumbled, his eyes closing again. Castiel frowned.

"Oh. I apologise." Castiel said, seeming to be confused by the conflicting information he had stored away about the boys. "I didn't mean-"

"Yeah well you never  _mean_ to do anything do you, Cas?" Dean asked suddenly, his voice much louder now, though he hadn't moved from where he was lying, eyes still closed. Castiel stopped speaking, confused. "You don't  _mean_ to come in here at the crack of friggin dawn, depriving us of sleep because you're a great and mighty  _Angel of the Lord_  and you think that kind of boring human stuff doesn't matter."

"Dean-" Sam started to say in his warning voice, but Dean hadn't finished, sitting up now and leaning back against the headboard, his arms behind his head.

"And you don't  _mean_ to keep explicitly ignoring my request for you to  _stop fucking trying to save me,_ I'll bet. In fact, I bet you can't even help it, can you Cas? Those Angel wings just pop out of their own accord huh? Must be real inconvenient when you wanna – I don't know,  _fly_ maybe?! Do you have to stand there, letting certain feelings  _overwhelm you_ before you can take off into the clouds?"

Castiel was staring at Dean, unblinking. He was just standing there, letting Dean lay into him. What was Dean even getting at? Was he seriously implying that Cas was lying about not being able to control his wings? Who the fuck even cares, thought Sam. Why was Dean getting so uptight about this damn 'don't-try-and-save-me' crap? Hell, Sam had saved Dean countless times and he'd never complained then!

"Well, Cas I don't know what the deal is with your feather dusters, but I am warning you now," Dean lifted a finger to jab it in Castiel's direction, "STOP trying to save me. I can take care of myself."

Okay, that's it. "Enough, Dean! Will you shut  _up_?! God, what the hell are you even talking about? Cas is  _helping_ you. Without him you'd still be burning in Hell!" Sam was angry, and that meant his hair was flapping about wildly. It was distracting; Castiel seemed a little entranced by it. "Besides, I couldn't help but notice you didn't exactly seem too put out by the sight of his wings yesterday. There is something else going on here-"

"Oh just shut your trap, Sammy. This has got fuck all to do with you." Dean cried, and slid off the bed to march over to the bathroom. The door slammed shut after him and the sound of the shower started up. Sam looked over at Castiel, expecting him to be a wreck. He wasn't far off.

"Oh, Cas." Sam said, and his face contorted into one of sympathy. He began to walk towards the Angel, who was suddenly looking very small underneath all that trenchcoat.

"I'm fine, Sam." Castiel said firmly, backing away from Sam's outstretched hand. "Dean is the Righteous Man. His desires come first, and if he wishes for me to cease my protective services, that is what must happen. I will wait for him to be done cleansing himself, and then I will escort you both back to your vehicle."

Sam tried to protest, but one look into Castiel's wounded eyes and Sam was speechless. He could have killed his brother. Why did he have to do this? Castiel didn't deserve to be treated like this. Well, if Dean thought that picking these stupid fights so he wouldn't have to talk about his feelings was going to get him out of anything, he was sorely mistaken. Sam Winchester was in charge now.

* * *

_Phase Six of The Plan: Lock them in somewhere overnight_

The drive back to Bobby's was tedious. Castiel had awkwardly explained when they had arrived back at the Impala that his Angel juices were running low on account of his wings deciding to make a surprise appearance yesterday. He would be requiring a lift back to South Dakota.

Sam had to hand it to Dean, his brother knew how to hold a grudge, no matter how ridiculous the foundation for it might have been. He could have almost applauded Dean's ability to keep up the frosty shoulder vibe towards the Angel in the backseat for the entire 14 hour trip. Sam stopped twice for gas and coffee, leaving them both in the car together. He was pretty sure they didn't exchange a single word.

At least Bobby seemed pleased to see them all back in one piece, wheeling himself out to the front porch to greet them all, with hugs and bottles of beer at the ready. He even gave Castiel a firm handshake and pat on the shoulder to 'show his gratitude for keeping the boys safe'. Dean rolled his eyes at that and downed his beer before strolling inside the house.

Sam went to follow him, and noticed Bobby beckon to Cas, making the Angel lean down so he could whisper something in his ear. When Castiel straightened up again, he had flushed a deep shade of pink, and Bobby was laughing uproariously. Sam looked at them both questioningly, but this seemed to only send Bobby into further fits of laughter, so he shrugged it off and went inside; he had things to prepare.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Sam stepped back and admired his handiwork. He knew that stumbling across that Angelic Trapping Sigil would come in handy one day. He glanced down at his hands, which were glistening and red from the lamb's blood he had just smeared over the length of the ceiling of Bobby's panic room, carefully working it around the Devil's trap fan that was already cleverly carved out. Yeah, let nobody say that Sam Winchester wasn't dedicated to the Destiel cause.

Sam's phone buzzed in his back pocket and he instinctively went to grab it before he remembered that his fingers were currently dripping with blood.  _Great. All over my favourite jeans._

He pulled the phone out anyway, smearing the screen red, and saw the words 'CRAZY FANGIRL CALLING: DON'T PICK UP' flash at him as it vibrated in his palm. Ah, that would be Becky then. Again.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the call, and stepped out of the panic room. He trudged up the stairs, dreading what he might find waiting for him, and turned into the living room, only to nearly fall into Bobby's lap.

"Ahh! Watchit ya'idgit." Bobby said, reaching out his hands to steady Sam as he lurched forwards.

"Woah, sorry." Sam said, backing up to let Bobby through.

"I've gotta get out of there. The tension's killing me! You got that knife on you, Sam? Go slice through that silence, I'm tellin' ya." Bobby said, wheeling himself away and out of the back door.

Sam watched him go, eyebrows raised, vaguely wondering what kind of tension he was referring to. Taking a deep breath, and expecting the worst, Sam strode into the book-filled living area, immediately noting that Dean was sitting as far as possible from Cas; they were actually on opposite sides of the room. Neither of them was saying anything, but every few seconds Castiel would look up from the lore book he was reading, and Dean would glance away from his not-so-tasteful reading material, they would lock eyes, glare, resume their activities and repeat.

Sam watched several cycles of this strange battle-of-the-wills and then decided it was time to act.

"Guys, I could really use your help with something downstairs." Sam said, trying to make it look and sound like he's just run up the stairs and into the room. He even panted a little for emphasis. Castiel looked worriedly over towards Sam, then back to Dean, as though he were checking for permission. "Guys? It's kind of important." Sam said in an urgent tone, so that Dean finally snapped his magazine closed and stood up, rolling his eyes.

"This had better be a damn emergency, Sammy." Dean said, and he sounded weary. Castiel stood up tentatively.

"Oh yeah, I can see you were  _extremely_ busy, terribly sorry brother dear." Sam said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, waving his bloody hands in front of Dean's face until he was forced to back away. He probably thought Sam didn't see the smirk on his face; he wiped it off pretty fast, but he was wrong. Sam was a fangirl now. He saw  _everything._

Sam started to lead the way downstairs, Dean following him, when suddenly he heard Dean exclaim, "You don't need  _him_ too, do you?", gesturing towards the Angel standing behind him on the stairs.

Sam gave Dean a bitchface that he usually reserved for particularly exasperating moments. "Yes, Dean. I need both of you. Now quit complaining or I'll post that picture I took of you after laundry day online."

Dean scowled but reluctantly continued following Sam down to the basement, Castiel hot on his heels. Dean looked a little suspicious when Sam opened the large metal door to the panic room, but didn't kick up a fuss, walking in behind his little brother trustingly. Castiel did the same, his faith entirely in the Winchester boys' ability to make right and good decisions.

That may have been why it was such a shock for the eldest Winchester and the Angel when Sam darted out of the room, slamming the wrought iron door shut behind him, and locking it securely.

"Sam, what the hell?!" Sam heard Dean yell from the other side of the door.

"It's for your own good, Dean!" Sam yelled back, not quite daring to open the peephole just yet for fear of being jabbed in the eyes.

"SAM YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW." Dean sounded pissed, and he started hammering on the door.

"Sam, I must agree with your brother. I know the current tension must be making it difficult-"

"Shut  _up_ , Cas!" Dean yelled, but Castiel seemed unperturbed.

"-but surely we can talk this out in a civilised manner." Castiel finished.

Sam shook his head, leaning against the cold metal door. "No. I'm sorry guys, but Dean is choosing to behave like a petulant little girl, pulling Cas's ponytail in the school playground instead of talking about what's going on here like normal, healthy people do."

"…I don't understand that reference." Castiel said, and Sam swore he could  _hear_ Dean rolling his eyes through the door.

"And Cas, you're not much better, you don't know how to work these emotions, so you're acting like a teenage girl having her first crush, which, okay, is better than a petulant child I'll give you that, but is still not  _healthy._ Basically, you guys aren't coming out until you've talked this through." Sam said, and he tried to sound firm and menacing. Sometimes it was difficult being the youngest.

"Sam! You just don't have any freaking  _idea_ what you're talking about, I'm not angry with Cas because I'm in… because I- I don't have a big gay crush on my Angel friend, okay?!"

Sam heard those little stumbles, yep. Dean couldn't even spit the L word out. No, not the 'lesbians' L word. Sam had heard him say that word plenty of times. Far too much. Castiel's breathy sigh, audible through the thick door, interrupted Sam's hurricane of thoughts.

"Dean just don't, okay? You can't just stand there and expect me to believe that after everything that's happened the past few days. I was  _there_ Dean, I saw every stare, every brush of hands and shoulders, heard every whispered word, saw every  _boner-_ "

"CLEARLY you are seeing things, Sam because that is the biggest load of-"

"Dean… I think we need to talk."

* * *

Sam was the younger sibling, and he found it endlessly surprising how Dean could become more of a tantrum-throwing toddler in under five seconds than he could remember being his entire life. When he was younger, Dean had told him early on that any crying or general childlike behaviour of any kind would be promptly ignored, and then beaten out of him. As John wasn't around to be a supervising parent, Sam had pretty much kept quiet and done as Dean said. Which was why it was so hypocritical of Dean now to respond to Cas's statement by clamping his hands over his ears and shouting 'No we don't! I'm not listening! Lalala…"

Actual five year old, Dean Winchester.

Sam had listened to a few minutes of Cas's pleading with Dean to stop and listen so that they could talk – Sam thanked the elusive God that Castiel seemed to be on the same page as him finally – and then, realising that Dean was having none of it, Sam trudged back up the stairs, disheartened, washing the blood off his hands quickly before going in search of his laptop. Maybe he could get some ideas off of his fellow conspirators about what to do once they were actually locked together in the closet, considering they weren't just making out immediately like he'd assumed.

He signed on to the Supernatural Society website, noting with interest that there were over twenty new posts on the homepage about an upcoming book signing with Chuck himself (or Carver Edlund, as most of the fans knew him) in Nebraska in the next couple of days.

_Huh, that's not too far from here,_ thought Sam, then remembered he could ring up Chuck any time he wanted and not to be so pathetic.

When he got to the SlashFanChat and saw that neither Destiel4eva or MrsDeanWinchester1997 were online, he sighed in frustration and leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table. He vaguely entertained the notion of going out to help Bobby fix some piece of old car engine he was surely having trouble with, but mechanic stuff was always Dean's forte not his, and he brushed the idea aside. He'd stick to being the one who helped Bobby with research.

He heard a sudden 'ting!' from the computer in front of him and he glanced at the screen.

**Samlicker81 is requesting a private chat with you!**

Sam nearly fell off his chair in his haste to log out of the website. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and that was undoubtedly Becky telling him to accept the private chat request. It wasn't happening. Sam tapped his finger on the mouse pad, thinking.

_There's always that Sabriel fic you haven't read yet…_

Sam gulped. He still wasn't sure if he was ready for that. He conjured up his last memory of Gabriel, trapped in a ring of fire in an abandoned warehouse just after he'd turned Sam into a car. Yep, definitely true love. Sam scoffed and opened his files, thinking it didn't matter if he read it and found it ridiculous, did it?

* * *

Half an hour later and Sam was in the same position, leaning back against the chair, except that now he knew significantly more about his own abilities as a bottom to an Archangel of the Lord. His pants were all of a sudden uncomfortably tight.

He tried to assess his current emotions after having read the fic in his mind, but found he couldn't seem to articulate the feelings. He was interrupted by his phone buzzing  _again,_ although this time the sensation was a lot more interesting as it vibrated against his thigh. He pulled it out quickly, groaning when he realised it was Becky. He answered it, just about to tell her to STOP CALLING when her shrill voice interrupted him.

"CHUCK JUST TOLD ME OH MY GOSH, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT SAM, OH MY ACTUAL GOSH!" She practically screamed, and Sam thought he could hear the pleading tones of Chuck in the background. Sam winced in sympathy with the poor guy. He knew it was futile to try and calm her.

"Becky, what… what are you talking about?" Sam tried, already fearing he would dread the answer.

"Do you not KNOW yet?!" Becky asked incredulously, apparently not expecting an answer. "Sam, I think it's a brilliant BRILLIANT idea to call Gabriel!" Becky replied, the excitement in her voice practically tangible through the phone.

"Call… wa?" Sam said eloquently, and Becky gave a half frustrated, half longing sigh. "Why would I call Gabriel?" Sam's cheeks did grow a little hot as he thought about Chuck being bombarded with visions of him poring over gratuitous descriptions of himself and an Archangel doing unspeakable things in a scuzzy motel room.

Becky gave a sort of high pitched giggle at Sam's question. "Why  _wouldn't_ you call him?" She asked in what she probably thought was a flirtatious tone of voice. "He's an Archangel, Sam! He can  _totally_ help you out with all the Destiel stuff! It's the perfect plan!"

Sam frowned and let Becky's words sink in, marvelling at her seemingly endless supply of energy.  _Could Gabriel really help with this? More importantly_ would  _Gabriel help with this? Setting your brother up with the Righteous Man is a little weird perhaps. But then so is setting your brother up with an Angel of the Lord,_ Sam supposed. If Chuck had already seen it, then that pretty much guaranteed that Gabriel could be persuaded into it. And it would be useful to have the powers of an Archangel/Trickster at his fingertips.

"Becky, can I talk to Chuck a sec?" Sam asked, interrupting her ramblings about the merits of Wincest over Sabriel but she'd take what she could get.

"Sure! CHUCK. Sammy-wammy wants a word." Sam wrinkled his nose.  _Sammy-wammy?_

"Hi, Sam." Oh dear. Chuck sounded utterly deflated. Sam's heart went out to him; he clearly hadn't thought through the whole being-Becky's-boyfriend thing.

"Hey, Chuck. Listen, I'm sorry about all the… drama. I didn't mean to make things difficult for you with… you know who." Sam said, trying to let his sympathy seep into his words.

"Ah, don't worry about it. It's not your fault. She's… a handful. No, I don't mean that – she's just  _very_ dedicated to her 'OTP's'." Chuck sounded exhausted, and Sam imagined him sitting at his desk, probably with a bottle of whiskey, unshaven and half-dressed as usual.

"Mmm. She's certainly very… excitable." Sam agreed, tracing a finger across a line of the Sabriel fic that read 'Gabriel grinned wolfishly as he took in the sight of Sam tied up before him, and leaned down to lick a stripe across…'.

"Well actually Sam, it is a _little_  bit your fault. I don't mean to sound critical of your life choices but… well… what the hell are you doing?" Chuck asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. "Trying to fix your brother up with Cas? It's… it's a little bizarre, Sam."

Sam sighed, and waited for Becky's scolding shouts to cease. "Chuck, you've gotta try to understand. Dean's my brother; He's the most important person to me in the world. I'd do  _anything_ to make him happy. Anything at all. I used to think it was Lisa and Ben that he wanted – an apple pie life in some suburban picket-fence house somewhere, but I realise now that he could never do that. He might be able to keep up the pretence for a while, but at the end of the day Dean's a hunter to the core, it's been drummed into him since the day of that damn fire that killed our Mom."

Sam paused, listening to Chuck's contemplative breathing on the line.

"I didn't just enter into this without thinking it through – I thought about it long and hard, and it's so obvious to me now that Cas is the perfect person for him. He'll die for Dean in a second, and protect him with every ounce of power he has, no matter how hard Dean protests. Cas loves Dean; I'm pretty sure he has ever since he dragged him out of Hell and stitched him back together. And I'm totally sure that Dean loves Cas – I know it, but Dean doesn't know how to deal with the kind of devotion Cas is giving him. Dean has some serious self-esteem problems after being in Hell, and he doesn't think he deserves Cas's love. He definitely doesn't think he deserves to  _be_   _in love._ But I'm gonna show him that he's wrong, and I'm gonna make it so he's finally happy, because I'm the best damn Destiel fangirl there ever was."

Sam finished his speech, proud of himself for being able to put into words what he had been feeling since day one of this damn plan. He thought he heard Becky sobbing quietly through the phone.

"That was beautiful, Sam. You're a fully grown fangirl now. Spread your wings Samuel. SPREAD YOUR WINGS AND FLY LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL BIRD YOU ARE." Becky hissed into the phone.

"Becky PLEASE. Sorry, Sam." Chuck said, probably having torn the phone away from Becky once again. "Okay. I see your point. You're right, Dean deserves to be happy. And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed some… tension between him and Cas. You're about to call Gabriel – he'll help with things-"

"SAM YOU HAVE NO IDEA, SUCH EXCITING SABRIEL THINGS ARE ABOUT TO HAPPEN JUST WAIT-"

"Becky! Give me the pho-"

Sam was left listening to the dial tone. He slid the phone back into his pocket with a mildly ominous feeling. Okay. Time to call Gabriel. Gulp.

* * *

_Phase Seven of The Plan: Get Gabriel_

"I, Sam Winchester, pray to the Archangel Gabriel. I need your help, Gabe. It's about your brother. And mine."

Sam opened one eye to peer around the kitchen. His hands were clasped tightly together on the table in front of him – he thought it would be best to go with the classic praying position. He closed both eyes again.

"Gabriel, please. I could really use-"

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam's eyes flew open in surprise and he jumped up from his chair at the sight of Gabriel leaning casually against Bobby's countertop. He was dressed remarkably casually in a black jacket and jeans, unlike Castiel, who seemed to only have the one, ill-fitting outfit.

"G-Gabriel." Sam said eloquently in greeting. His mind raced with images of him and the person in front of him in numerous and imaginative positions, straight out of the fic he had just read. "I thought maybe you wouldn't come… you weren't answering."

"Aw, no of course I come when you call, Sasquatch." Gabriel said, smiling broadly and playing with a beer bottle that had been left on the side. "I just like to hear you  _beg."_ He said with a wink.

Sam's eyes widened and he blushed, more images flooding into his brain. He squashed them down quickly, thinking of Castiel's ability to read minds. Gabriel narrowed his eyes and stared at Sam's forehead intently. Then he started guffawing loudly.

_Too late,_ Sam thought glumly.

"Oh, SAMMY." Gabriel said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Who would've thought you'd be reading such  _filth_?" He said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. Sam shut his mouth firmly, and purposefully didn't look at Gabriel. Suddenly the Angel appeared behind him, extremely close, his hands resting on Sam's waist, making Sam start, his heart pounding. "Let's have a little read then." Gabriel said in a low voice, right next to Sam's ear.

Sam's mind reeled and he struggled to focus, seemingly only able to concentrate on Gabriel's warm breath tickling the back of his neck and  _where were his hands going oh my God-_

Sam looked down and saw that his laptop was still open in front of them, the Sabriel fic on full display. He cursed himself for not thinking to close that and slammed the lid of the laptop shut quickly before Gabriel could read another word.

Sam grabbed hold of Gabriel's wrists before they could possibly move any lower and spun around to face him defiantly.

"Gabriel. I need you." Gabriel laughed loudly again, raising his eyebrows.

"I can see that, Sammy. I'll have to show you the proper way to do that thing we do on the floor of the motel bathroom though; your writing of it leaves something to be desired…"

"What? I didn't write that- LOOK it's not important okay, what I mean is, I need your help with-"

"With making Dean and Cas realise they're hopelessly in love." Gabriel said, sounding bored all of a sudden, and reaching up to play with Sam's top button. "Yeah, I got that. I just read your mind, remember?"

"Right. So…?" Sam questioned, gently trying pry Gabriel's hands away from where they now slipped the button through his second hole. It was no use. He was very determined.

"Sure. I'll help you, Sammy." Gabriel said, and he met Sam's eyes, grinning. Sam couldn't help but think it looked very wolfish. Blood pooled in certain parts of his body at the thought. "Cas needs a good rumble in the sack. The kid's had it rough. It'd be nice to see my baby brother all gooey with someone." Gabriel smiled softly at the thought, his fingers on the third button now.

Sam sighed in relief. Maybe with Gabriel helping him, this plan could actually come to fruition.

"So. You locked them in the basement, huh?" Gabriel said, leaning in towards Sam and wrapping his arms around his waist. Sam squirmed a little but it was clear he would not be able to break free of an Archangel's hold. It was quite exhilarating in a weird way. He felt his heart pound a little harder. "Y'know Sammy, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine."

* * *

"Well! Looky, looky!" Gabriel cried, flinging open the rectangular peep-hole that opened into the panic room. "It's like a lookin' at two little fishies in a tank."

"Gabriel!" Castiel gasped, standing up from where he'd been sitting on the floor of the room, the opposite side to Dean of course.

"Hey, bro!" Gabriel said, waving his hand a little in front of the tiny window. Sam grimaced a little from where he was stood behind the Archangel. He couldn't see into the room from his position, but he could practically feel the waves of hostility radiating from Dean seeping through the door.

"Gabriel you son of a bitch – let us out of here!" Dean yelled, and yeah, he was definitely angrier now than he was an hour or so ago.

Gabriel sucked in a breath, looking disapprovingly at Dean. "Can't do that, buddy. Your baby brother has somehow convinced me to help him." Dean was stood in front of the door, staring straight at Gabriel, eyes ablaze. Gabriel turned to look adoringly at Sam. "I just can't help myself when he flutters his lashes at me like that. Little tease." Gabriel winked, causing Sam to turn scarlet, and turned back round to face Dean.

"Gabriel please, have mercy. You can't possibly think this is a constructive solution to any problems Dean and I-"

"We're not having any Goddamn problems!" Dean yelled, cutting Castiel off. "You make it sound like we're a married couple! Why can't everyone just leave us the fuck alone, we're fine-"

"Dean we are far from fine." Castiel spat, and Gabriel whistled as Dean's middle finger shot up in response.

"Okay, okay  _enough_ fellas." Gabriel said, deciding this game needed a ref. "You might not like it, but Sammy's right. He's actually a hell of a smart kid. He's got the brains  _and_  the body." Sam yelped as Gabriel reached back around him and squeezed his ass, hard.

"Gabriel! Stop!" Sam hissed, sounding scandalised. Gabriel just laughed.

"Here's what I propose. You two drama queens admit your feelings... or you stay in here forever. And here's the fun part about getting me involved; Sammy might have softened after a couple of days and let you out, but I'm fully prepared to keep you two locked up tight for as long as it takes. I haven't got a lot on in the next few decades. Except… y'know, the apocalypse and all."

Sam rolled his eyes at Gabriel's little speech. Although he had to admit, he probably would have given up after a couple of days. Getting Gabriel on board was a smart move on his part. Although, he couldn't really be sure whether it was his idea or Chuck's… Prophet stuff made his head hurt.

"Yeah? Well I'll tell you what there, Candyman," Dean started to say, edging closer to the door until his face was nearly pressed against the hole, "you can take your proposal and shove it. We have a Goddamn world to save and I do NOT have time to make an appearance on Jerry Springer. Now let us out!"

Gabriel grinned and turned to face Sam, who was still bright red. To be fair to Sam, Gabriel's hand was still resting firmly and possessively on his behind, despite his best efforts to slap it away.

"Oooh, he's scary isn't he? I bet there's legends about you two in the monster world. Good cop, bad cop. Mmm." Dean's eyes were piercing, his mouth a hard line as Gabriel spoke. "I'll tell you what, princess. Just because I'm the  _best_ , and because I wanna spend a little 'quality time' with your brother here, I'll make it all pretty for you and Prince Charming. Make it easier for you to spit out those special words."

Fear coursed through Sam's veins at the words 'quality time', and the grip on his ass got firmer. Then, with a sudden, almost imperceptible flash of blinding white, the basement disappeared and Sam found himself sitting in a giant swan.

He whipped his head from side to side, confused, only to find upon closer inspection that he was sat in one of those ridiculous fairground pedalo boats beside a grinning Gabriel. They were completely surrounded by an inky, serene looking lake, the moonlight shimmering across the rippling surface and illuminating the warm night air.

"W-what the hell…" Sam stuttered, still looking from side to side.

Gabriel chuckled. "Has anyone ever told you that when your hair swishes in the wind like that you resemble an  _adorable_ little puppy?" He asked, pedalling them across the glinting water with ease.

Sam smoothed his hair down self-consciously and stared at Gabriel properly for the first time. He was now dressed in a white shirt, which somehow seemed to glow in the silvery light of the moon.

"You've changed." Sam observed, and Gabriel side-eyed him with a mildly amused expression.

"Had to make the effort for our first date, didn't I Sammy?" Gabriel said, winking at him coyly. Sam's jaw dropped open of its own accord and he briefly considered the possibility of jumping ship. Gabriel smiled at his reaction. "Well I thought you'd prefer it if I did things the traditional way, but if you'd rather just jump straight into the motel shower with me now-"

"No! No, that's alright." Sam said quickly, and after a moment's hesitation, started to pedal. The swan slid across the lake effortlessly, seeming to steer itself. Sam chuckled a little at the absurdity of the situation. "So you… did all this?" He asked, gesturing to the world around them, noticing the tall, gently wafting willow trees fringing the water for the first time.

"Hells yeah, I did." Gabriel said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "Do you like it sweetheart?"

Sam coughed a laugh and nodded, his throat suddenly inexplicably dry.

"Well, it's not all for us unfortunately. We have some friends on the lake." Sam looked at Gabriel, surprised, and followed his gaze as the swan swung around to face the other side. Sure enough, in the distance was the vague silhouette of another boat just like theirs, this one holding two considerably less pleased looking passengers.

"Looks like we've got some time to kill eh, Sammy?" Gabriel said, turning to smirk at him, and Sam noticed he'd stopped pedalling. Gabriel's hand brushed up Sam's shoulder, the Angel's fingers threading themselves into his tousled hair. Sam's breath hitched. "Whatever shall we get up to?"

* * *

"Why the hell can't you just zap us out of here, Cas?!" Dean growled, staring forwards across the lake, a large swan head obscuring his view.

"Your brother went to great lengths to paint an Angel Trap Sigil on the ceiling of the panic room. We're still in there, Gabriel is just altering our perception of reality. Like he did when he put you in the television world. You were really in that warehouse the entire time."

Dean shot Castiel a glare, as if implying it was all his fault they were trapped here. God, he was going to  _kill_ Gabriel. The jerk had it coming, he'd killed Dean enough times. And a damn swan boat? Really?!

"Cas, he's your brother, go talk some sense into him!" Dean cried, kicking the pedals by his feet and sending them freewheeling round.

"He won't listen to me, Dean. He's already made up his mind. Plus, he's of higher rank than I am; technically I'm supposed to obey his commands." Castiel replied, his elbow leaning on the side of the boat, his head resting in his hand glumly.

"Obey his…" Dean looked at Castiel disbelievingly. Anger boiled under his skin at the thought of Gabriel ordering Cas around up in Heaven, teasing him and pushing him about just because he could abuse his power. "I'm gonna kill him." Dean mumbled.

Castiel sighed, and played idly with a button on his trenchcoat. The swan moved silently over the water, and Dean could make out the vague outline of Sam in the boat across the way, Gabriel leaning in close to him.

"Dean, at risk of you throwing another fit, I would like to suggest that we talk about several things." Castiel said, and he didn't sound nervous this time, like he had in the panic room, he just sounded weary.

"What _things_?" Dean asked, gesturing wildly and looking at Castiel like he was insane.

"Do you…" Castiel trailed off, looking out at the water and biting his lip. Then he looked back at Dean. "Do you recall asking me about my wings? The first time?"

Dean gulped, tried to hold Castiel's gaze, but looked away, defeated. "Of course I do." Dean was silent for a moment, he thought he saw Gabriel's hand slide into Sam's hair in the other boat, but then he blinked and it was gone. "I mean… sorta. Bits and pieces, y'know?"

When Dean looked over, Castiel was nodding, his eyes cast straight ahead, as if he'd expected that answer. "You were inebriated."

"Huh?" Dean said.

"You were drunk." Castiel reiterated.

"Oh." Said Dean, trying to see Castiel's expression in the moonlight. "Yeah. I was."

Castiel said nothing more, and Dean tried to be okay with that, but inevitably his curiosity got the better of him.

"Did I… what happened?" Dean asked in a quiet voice, and it seemed like the question had been waiting to tumble from his lips for some time.

Castiel shifted in his seat. He wrapped his coat around himself a little tighter and opened his mouth as if to answer, but then closed it again.

"We should pedal. It's always better to humour Gabriel." Castiel said in a flat, strange voice Dean had never heard.

"Cas." Dean said, barely above a whisper, and leaned over, placing his hand on the Angel's shoulder, breaking some invisible barrier between them. Castiel looked up at him, his blue eyes lost and sad. "What happened?"

Flickering yellow lights appeared at the edges of Dean's vision, and he glanced around him to see the surface of the water was covered in hundreds of candles, gliding along in the silent lake, their flames sending tiny shadows dancing over everything in their path. Dean looked up at the other boat and saw Gabriel give him an exaggerated thumbs-up signal. Sam buried his face in his hands.

Dean looked back over at Cas, smiling a little now. Castiel smiled back, a little sadly, and began to tell him.

* * *

_"Caaaaaas." Dean slurred affectionately, slamming the door of the motel room closed behind him. He stumbled inside, over to where Castiel was currently perched on one of the beds, and promptly tripped over, falling almost onto his lap._

_"You're inebriated." Castiel stated, his eyes raking over Dean apprehensively as he lay back on the bed beside Cas, both their legs hanging over the edge._

_"Huh?" Dean said, bewildered, staring up at Cas from where he was laying down._

_"You're drunk."_

_"Oh." Dean said, and let out a giggle. "Nahhh, I'm not! I only had a couple of-" he hiccupped, "-couple of beers."_

_"Where's Sam?" Castiel asked, tense._

_Dean giggled. "He went to the LIBRARY. Sometimes I think about getting a blood test, check we're really brothers." Castiel didn't know whether he was joking. "Angels don't like their Righteous Men getting drunk, huh?"_

_"You're not 'my' Righteous Man, Dean." Castiel replied sternly, gazing down at Dean disapprovingly. "You are everyone's."_

_Dean laughed at that, rubbing his face with his hands. The laugh sounded false to Castiel's ears._

_"I dunno Cas, it certainly seems like I'm yours. Aaaall yours." Dean was grinning now, but his eyes were closed. "Even if I'm not you're definitely_ my  _Guardian Angel."_

_Castiel's brow furrowed. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to this. He supposed it was true, in a way. Humans liked to think they were being protected by higher beings. And he would protect Dean to the death. "Okay, Dean."_

_Dean's eyes flew open, he was still grinning. "Yeah? So you're mine, and I'm yours. All settled, how it should be." His eyes fluttered shut again. Castiel looked away and felt Dean's hand tugging the sleeve of his trenchcoat. He turned. "Come lay down next to your Righteous Man, Angel."_

_When Dean spoke, there was a smile in his voice. Castiel hesitated, but eventually complied with Dean's demands, partially to stop him annoyingly tugging on his coat. They lay side by side on the single bed, their shoulders pressed against each other. Castiel felt a warm sensation in his belly at the touch._

_"Cas?" Dean asked._

_"Yes, Dean."_

_"Can I ask you somethin'?" Dean asked again, rolling over to lie on his side so he could stare at Castiel's profile._

_"Yes."_

_"How come I can't see your wings?" He asked, his voice slightly awestruck, as though just remembering this was an Angel on the bed next to him. Castiel debated not answering; it probably wouldn't be wise considering Dean's current state, but the hunter placed a hand on his inner elbow and he sighed, defeated by a simple touch._

_"Your senses are too dull to perceive them. I can manifest a version of them, but I would never usually willingly do so."_

_"Why not?" Dean demanded, using his elbow to prop himself up so that he was staring down at Cas._

_"Humans fear what they don't understand." Castiel said simply, making Dean's brows knit together._

_"So I'm never gonna get to see them? Only shadows? I promise I won't fear you, oh great and powerful Castiel of the Lord." Dean winked, grinning._

_Castiel smiled, unable to help himself. "Sometimes my wings can manifest themselves against my will if certain emotions overcome me. I've never experienced this first hand however." Castiel explained. Dean's eyebrows shot up, and Castiel immediately wished he'd been more subtle. He was suddenly very aware of Dean's hand in the crook of his elbow. "I suppose if you really wished to see them, there wouldn't be any danger in me just showing you." He said quickly, his heart hammering._

_Dean's grin got wider and he sat up completely, tugging on Castiel's arm to get him to do the same._

_"You must tell no one, of course." Castiel said, sitting up slowly and giving Dean a serious look. Dean nodded emphatically, apparently too excited to speak all of a sudden._

_Castiel concentrated, locating the right spectrum of light and colour for this mortal plane, and then they were there, two enormous, beautiful black wings, slightly blue in the garish light of the motel room. Dean sucked in a breath and stared up at them, his eyes raking across every feather with awe._

_"Woah…" He breathed, and before Castiel could stop him he was leaning forwards and sinking his fingers into the plush ebony masses, stroking lines through each section, and tracing patterns with his fingertips that tickled the soft flesh underneath._

_Castiel bit his lip, and his eyes fluttered closed as Dean worked over every segment, stroking them with such care, such adoration. He felt Dean pause, his fingers plunged into the looser feathers at the bottom of his right wing. He opened his eyes to see Dean staring at his face, his expression one of want, and longing. He removed his fingers and shuffled closer to Cas's body, sliding his hand round the back of the Angel's neck and leaning in close. Castiel stared, unblinking into Dean's vivid green eyes until he felt the first touch of Dean's lips against his own. Dean pushed at his shoulder, insistent, and Castiel let himself fall backwards onto the bed, Dean leaning over him, their lips never breaking contact._

_The hunter's eyes were closed, and Castiel copied him, revelling in the feeling of shutting off one of his senses to enhance every other. Castiel's wings trembled behind him, their expanse filling the width of the bed and draping down onto the floor. Without even really needing to think, Castiel lifted them up and wrapped them around Dean, pulling him closer, encircling him in feathery warmth._

_A few minutes later, Dean fell asleep against Cas's shoulder. Castiel rolled him off onto the pillow, his wings dissolving in the air as if they'd never appeared at all. He rose from the bed, smoothing out his coat. Sam entered moments later, clutching his laptop, looking a little sheepish, but sensing nothing amiss._

* * *

"Oh." Dean said. It was all he could think of to say. He certainly had not remembered the full extent of that evening. Everything seemed to make sense now.

Castiel wasn't looking at him, and Dean could hardly blame him really. I mean, of all the awkward situations in the world, this has got to be a winner. God, he wanted to beat himself up. How had Cas just carried on after that? Pretending it had never happened. Ugh, he felt like such a dick. He put his head in his hands.

When he looked up, the world had changed again.

* * *

Sam jumped a little as soon as he realised he was in suspended in the air, making the carriage he and Gabriel were sat in rock alarmingly. Sam looked over the edge with trepidation, seeing the striped tents and colourful rides below him get slowly further and further away. He gulped. He was at a carnival. On a Ferris Wheel.

_It's okay Sam. Stay calm._

He turned to Gabriel, who was watching him, amused. Sam noticed that the Angel's arm was slung across the back of the seat, practically wrapped around his shoulders.

"Okay there, Sammykins?" Gabriel asked, raising one eyebrow as if he knew. Sam stared back confidently and leant back against the seat, trying to appear relaxed.

"Fine." He said defiantly. "Um, there aren't any... clowns at this carnival are there?" Sam asked, trying hard to sound nonchalant though his heart was pounding madly.

Gabriel laughed and didn't answer other than to slide his arm forward so that it actually draped around Sam, pulling him in close. He squirmed a little but eventually acquiesced, glancing across at Gabriel's glinting eyes. Their faces were suddenly very close together. Sam couldn't help thinking of how that fanfiction had started… with Gabriel getting a bit too close, a bit too flirty, until Sam just couldn't take it anymore and he-

"Now, now Sammy." Gabriel said, looking at Sam like he was a misbehaving child. "No wild motel sex till you eat your vegetables."

Sam blushed, and God he was getting tired of doing that. It was so  _weird_ that Gabriel could see his every thought. "I was just reading it cause I was curious." He mumbled, looking out at the flawless countryside beyond the fairground, the rolling violet hills surrounding the pea green fields and ochre meadows. It was really beautiful.

"Why thankyou. I made it myself." Gabriel said, smiling, and Sam was momentarily confused before realising his thoughts had been read once again. "And I know you were curious… we're all allowed to be a little  _curious_ now and then." Gabriel murmured into his ear, and Sam thought he felt the merest hint of his lips brush against the sensitive flesh there. He shivered and looked back at Gabriel, his eyes dark.

"Aw, you cold baby?" Gabriel asked, and Sam decided he legitimately couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Gabriel edged closer, running his tongue across his lips with a smirk. "Here, let me warm you up."

Sam's eyes went wide.

* * *

Castiel was finding it difficult to ignore Dean any longer considering their proximity, huddled together in this tiny open carriage of a Ferris Wheel. It wasn't that Castiel was angry with Dean, he doubted that the hunter could ever truly do something that he wouldn't forgive him for eventually. But now that Dean knew what had happened all that time ago, it would change everything... wouldn't it? Things could never be how they were again. Dean would be embarrassed by the way he had acted, and Castiel would be embarrassed that he'd let things get that far when Dean was clearly not in his right mind and didn't actually want to be doing or saying those things.

Dean shifted next to him, and Castiel felt their thighs rub together with a rustle of material. Dean coughed, but said nothing, so Castiel continued to stare out at the fabricated world around him. His brother was truly an artist. He'd never been to a carnival before. He hoped he'd get to look around before Gabriel changed things again.

"Cas?" Oh. Apparently Dean wanted to continue talking.

"What is it, Dean?" Castiel said, and he turned slightly towards the other man, but didn't look up at him.

"I…I'm sorry. About… well. You know." Dean said, seeming to have difficulty getting the words out.

Castiel wanted to touch him, to reassure him physically that it was fine, of course it was fine, that he didn't do anything wrong, that he never could.

"You needn't apologise, Dean. It was my fault. I was – what is that phrase? – lost in the moment. I should have stopped you. I see that now." Dean looked confused, but Castiel didn't see.

"What?" Dean said, trying to understand Castiel's words. "No, Cas… I'm not apologising for kissing you."

Castiel looked up then, straight into Dean's sea foam eyes and looked mildly embarrassed. "O-oh." He said weakly, a puzzled expression creeping onto his face. Dean wanted to wrap his arms around him.

"I do a lot of stupid shit, but that… I dunno, I wish I remembered it I guess, but I don't regret actually doing it. Especially not if it happened like you said it happened." Castiel still looked confused. "I'm apologising for not remembering – for you having to see me wake up the next morning and act like it never happened. That's… that's harsh."

Castiel cocked his head, but signs of recognition were starting to sparkle in his eyes. "Are you saying… you would have wanted to… to…" Castiel seemed to stumble over this word, and he dropped his gaze quickly, "kiss me anyway?"

Dean smirked a little. "You mean would I have wanted to, even if I wasn't inebriated?" Castiel glanced up at him and smiled, noticing he'd learnt that word at last.  _Fuck that,_ Dean thought, watching Castiel's pink lips stretch across his face, lighting up his features like someone had lit a match from within,  _I wanna kiss him right now._ Dean looked away, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. "Um, yeah."

Castiel's eyes widened, and his eyes darted about, as if searching for some scrap of evidence why this might be true.

"I don't know what's going on between us, Cas. But I know it's there. You'd have to be pretty dumb not to see the way you're always staring at me like some creeper." Castiel looked indignant, his mouth open ready to protest, but Dean laughed and he shut up quickly, deciding that to hear Dean laugh he would endure endless ridicule. "It's okay cause I do it too."

"I know." Castiel said, and Dean saw that he was smiling.

"I feel like you're gonna lose big with me, Cas. I gotta be honest here." Dean said, and his voice was suddenly serious. They'd reached the bottom of the Ferris Wheel now, and when they went past the station, Dean wondered if the ride would ever end.

"I don't see how that's possible. I've loved you with everything I am ever since I first cradled your broken soul in my hands." Castiel replied, and Dean couldn't bear it. The simplicity of that statement, it was too much. He grabbed hold of Castiel by the shoulders, gripping him tightly and staring deeply into his eyes.

"No, don't you do that. Don't you make it seem like it was nothing. You pulled me out of Hell, Cas. I was in the worst place even fathomable, and you saved me. You could have died trying to get me out. How am I supposed to repay that kind of stuff, huh? Do you know what I would have  _become_ if you hadn't done that for me? What I almost  _did_  become? How can I ever repay you for that?" He seemed to be genuinely asking, and Castiel noticed the sheen of tears in his eyes.

"Kiss me again?" Castiel said, a tiny smile on his lips to match his broken, scared voice. Dean's heart splintered in response.

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Castiel's, tasting the vaguely familiar warmth, and wrapping his hands around the back of his head to pull him in closer, because this damn perfect Angel was always getting so close to him, but it was never close enough.

Castiel's hands hovered uncertainly in the air, eventually coming to rest on Dean's waist. Dean shivered at the touch of his fingers, and ran his own up to thread through Cas's thick black hair.

Several loud bangs and fizzing sounds started up from nearby, and Dean reluctantly broke away from Cas, just for a second, his instincts telling him that danger followed loud noises, but when he opened his eyes to look around, the sky had turned to night around them, and fireworks were lighting up the darkness. Castiel watched in awe as several glittering golden showers rained down above them, and streaks of red blue and purple swirled in their place. It occurred to Dean that Cas had probably never seen fireworks before, and he leaned in to kiss him softly, watching him blush as the technicolour display shone in his eyes.

"Love you too, Cas." Dean said quickly once Cas's attention was turned back to the fireworks, saying it low into Cas's ear, and hoping he wouldn't make too big a deal out of it. Castiel turned, smiling and he touched his forehead to Dean's, his eyes falling closed.

Dean kissed him again, a little more hungrily this time, making Cas laugh a little at his eagerness. He wondered if Cas had ever kissed anyone before, and the idea that he might not have sent a little thrill running through him. He let his tongue slide across Cas's lips until he opened them, and licked his way inside, thinking with the kind of wonder that only comes with kissing a goddamn  _Angel,_  that he tasted of light, and rain.

They were at the top of the Ferris wheel now, in prime position for the fireworks display, not that they were really watching anymore. From somewhere below them they heard a cry of 'Way to go, bro!' and despite briefly breaking apart to confer, they honestly couldn't tell if it was Gabriel or Sam that had said it.

* * *

Back at Bobby's, Sam smiled, incredibly proud of himself. He still couldn't quite believe he'd actually done it. He'd gone through pain, despair, laughter and sexual harassment to get to this moment, and looking over at Dean, who was sitting on the couch with one arm securely wrapped around Cas's shoulders, looking down at him with a secret little smile, Sam knew it was worth it. Castiel seemed pleased too, and that was brilliant, because Sam had wondered once or twice if he might be a bit unnerved by Dean's obvious overtly sexual attitude towards any kind of romantic relationship.

As Sam watched them gazing at each other, Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel, pulling him closer by the arm he had wrapped around him. Castiel responded eagerly, sliding his hands up Dean's chest and moving forwards, tilting his head a little to give Dean better access.  _Ew,_ Sam thought smiling a little, but looking away,  _yeah I'm pretty sure they're not gonna have any trouble in that department._

He heard a chuckle from behind him and felt the arms around his own waist tighten in a firm squeeze. Sam looked around to see Gabriel, who was nodding in agreement with the thought he'd just had, and wrinkling his nose at the sight of Dean and Cas making out on the sofa opposite. Sam wriggled a bit, trying to free himself again, but knew it was futile. If Gabriel wanted Sam on his knee, that was how it was going to happen. Sam sighed and turned his attention back to his brother. He couldn't wait till this came out in the books. He and the girls would have so much to squeal about.

"So are you that emotionally repressed, or am I gonna be able to get your knickers off a little quicker than that?" Gabriel asked huskily into Sam's ear, nodding towards Dean and Cas, and nibbling his lobe so that Sam squirmed and grew warm.

Dean gave Gabriel the finger from across the room, rather impressively not stopping his game of tonsil tennis. Gabriel chuckled and Sam felt it vibrate through his body. Gabriel's hands slid up his chest towards his top button again, and Sam's breath hitched; they'd played this game before.

"No games, kiddo." Gabriel breathed, dragging his lower lip across the exposed skin of Sam's neck. "I know a really nice motel y'know…" He started to suck on the tender flesh just under Sam's shirt collar; it would probably leave a mark. Sam tilted his head a little, unable to resist giving him better access and Gabriel chuckled, giving him a small nip.

At that moment, all four men heard a cheery whistle accompanied by rolling wheels. They all froze, shocked, in various states of entanglement as Bobby wheeled himself merrily into the living room, whistling a tune that died on his lips as soon as he took in the scene before him.

Sam didn't even want to imagine what it must be like for Bobby to walk (or roll) in on  _both_  his practically adopted sons making out with Angels. Guy Angels. Bobby stared, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation for a moment before saying "Christ, I don't wanna know" and wheeling himself quickly towards the kitchen.

On his way, he stopped, jabbed a finger at Castiel, who's hands were now under Dean's t-shirt and said 'I told you', which made the Angel blush and bury his head in Dean's shoulder. Bobby chuckled to himself and wheeled out of the room.

Dean stroked the back of Castiel's neck and looked down at him questioningly. Castiel looked up at him through his lashes.

"Bobby told me earlier that you were as stubborn about love as you were about everything else. But that you were also as fierce about killing monsters as you were about protecting the things you love." Castiel smiled a little at that, and Sam had to admit, it sounded like Dean.

"So… why where you blushing like a virgin bride on her wedding night?" Gabriel asked, sliding his hand up Sam's inner thigh. Sam tried to slap it away to no avail, Christ he was getting hard.

"Shut the hell up, Gabriel." Dean said, proving the point Castiel had just made nicely, and making Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "But seriously yeah, why was he laughing like a nutjob?" Dean asked Cas, his eyes flickering down to his mouth every few seconds as though he could barely keep from kissing him.

"He also said…" Castiel looked apologetically at Dean. "…that given the validity of both those statements, he didn't want to think about what you'd be like in the bedroom. Or something to that effect. I left out some of the more gratuitous vocabulary he used." Dean's eyes flew open wide, and he cast a shocked look at Sam, only to grimace when he saw where Gabriel's hand was.

Castiel ran his fingers lightly over Dean's cheekbones, bringing his attention back immediately. Dean smiled down at him, smitten, and Cas smiled back. Dean let his eyes rake over Castiel's entire body, stopping briefly just above his shoulders to remember the wings he'd seen there, and how he'd freaked out when they'd wrapped around him a second time in that cave because it had felt too close, too familiar, too…

Dean's eyes flickered back up to Castiel. His smile became predatory. "Want me to show you?"

Castiel took a moment to figure out what Dean was referring to, then his lips opened in surprise. He nodded, and Dean stood up, held out his hand for Cas, who took it nervously, and led him quickly out towards the stairs.

Sam watched them go, mildly amused. Aw damn it, he'd left his laptop in the bedroom. He wouldn't be able to get that for hours now, ugh.

"So…" Gabriel said conversationally, and his fingers danced dangerously close to certain areas, which made Sam screw his eyes shut and grip the Angel's hand as tightly as possible. "…Motel?"

Sam turned to look at Gabriel, chewing his lip, his mind at war with itself. Gabriel smiled at him cheekily. Sam took a breath and nodded, gulping down his fear, and Gabriel grinned wolfishly.

_Oh well, I guess I won't be needing my laptop for a while-_

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and they were gone.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for reading! Reviews would be wonderful if you feel like it :)


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the longest motherfrickin epilogue you will ever probably read. 
> 
> It's been a while, guys. Enjoy the last part, sorry if I kept you waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the Epilogue, so if you like, you can skip this part, safe in the knowledge that the story ended with the boys at Bobby's house, wrapped in their Angel's arms. If you're curious to find out what happens next... I hope you enjoy this little extra :)

** THE SUPERNATURAL SOCIETY HOMEPAGE **

** WELCOME **

**THE SUPERNATURAL SOCIETY IS DELIGHTED TO ANNOUNCE, AFTER SEVERAL MONTHS OF WAITING, CARVER EDLUND’S LATEST INSTALMENT IN THE SUPERNATURAL BOOK SERIES HAS BEEN PUBLISHED!**

**PRESENTING THE 30 th BOOK: ‘PROFOUNDLY BONDED’ (PURCHASE LINK BELOW)**

**GO FORTH SUPERNATURALISTS! LET OUR GOD SHOWER YOU IN FEELS WITH HIS NEWEST NOVEL, FEATURING GRIPPING NARRATIVES, NEW RELATIONSHIPS & A SHOCKING (ROMANTIC!) TURN OF EVENTS!**

* * *

One month since the Great Destiel Plan…

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: I am DEAD after reading that. DEAD.**

**Destiel4eva: what did I tell you**

**Destiel4eva: I just… I’m always right**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: I need some time to lie down…**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Maybe a few shots of something very alcoholic. You know… to help with the stress.**

**Destiel4eva: but srsly?? The Sabriel too?!?!**

**Destiel4eva: I’m convinced I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: The best part is… no. Where the fuck is Samfan?! He’ll be thrilled, this was all Sam’s doing after all!**

**Destiel4eva: did you just swear… I’ve never seen you type worse than ‘damn’ before**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Well I can’t be blaspheming all the time can I? Dean’s BOYFRIEND wouldn’t like it XD !!!**

**Destiel4eva: hahahahaha oh god it’s so great**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: I’m literally freaking out right now, it’s so frustrating cause NOBODY UNDERSTANDS.**

**Destiel4eva: omg I’m exactly the same :( don’t people realise that the most monumental thing has just occurred??? Our otp is canon!!**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: …hey, where do you live anyway?**

**Destiel4eva: stalker alert :L**

**Destiel4eva: jk I live in San Francisco, why?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Omfg no way.**

**Destiel4eva: what why**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: That’s where I live! Do you go to Lowell High?**

**Destiel4eva: No, Gateway**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Phew. I thought we might have been classmates this whole time. That’d just be awkward.**

**Destiel4eva: lol**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: …Sooo do you fancy meeting up and fangirling ourselves into oblivion?**

**Destiel4eva: is that even a question**

**Destiel4eva: just give me a time and a place bitch**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: …I’m guessing that’s meant to be an endearment.**

* * *

 

Two days later

Chuck is dithering. His fingers poised over the keyboard, website up and blinking at him, ready to go, he’s suddenly been struck by a wave of crippling anxiety.

_Worst possible timing,_ he thinks grimly, cursing himself for being so spineless.

Becky will be gone for an hour, two hours tops – he’s managed to send her on an imaginary mission to buy a non-existent brand of typewriter ribbon, but she’ll figure out that he’s just trying to get rid of her soon enough. It’s not the first time he’s done it after all.

It’s not that he doesn’t love Becky – although, he thinks, love is a mighty strong word – but she’s a hell of a lot to handle. The way Chuck sees it, he endures more than his fair share of Becky’s craziness. He’s perfectly entitled to an hour’s alone time.

Plus, he has something he needs to do. Without her help. Or knowledge. So, swallowing down his fear, Chuck flexes his fingers and clicks enter on the dinosaur of a computer in front of him. The Supernatural Society immediately signs him in to Becky’s account, because luckily for Chuck (in some ways) Becky is the type of girl that ticks the ‘remember my login details’ box.

He doesn’t allow himself to linger too long on the homepage; just the sight of the photos and fans squealing about the latest book, praising him, calling him God (that one makes him splutter) sends a blush crawling up his bristled cheeks. He dredges up the memory of Sam’s movements in his mind, clicking the same SlashFanChat link that his younger protagonist did over a month ago for the first time, and finding, to his delight, the two very people he’s looking for already signed in.

**Destiel4eva: don’t diss it, the place had nice coffee!**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: And free wifi. Can’t forget the best bit about the place.**

**Destiel4eva: you mean the best bit about the place WASN’T meeting me for the first time??? I’m insulted ;)**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Pfft, no way. I know you inside out already. We’ve stayed up all night talking countless times, I just know what you look like when you’re squee-ing now.**

**Samlicker81 is requesting to join the conversation. Allow this?**

**Destiel4eva: oh jesus it’s Becky**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Who IS Becky ffs?! Everyone seems to know except me I swear to God.**

**Destiel4eva: wow another swear word, this whole Destiel thing has really got you to come out of your shell Hann ;)**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Shut it Tasha, you’re obvs just a bad influence. Now let the poor girl join the convo.**

**Destiel4eva: ohhh but she’s insane! You have no idea seriously-**

**Samlicker81 has sent you another request to join the conversation. Allow this?**

**Destiel4eva: -she’s got these crazy-ass kinks about wincestiel watersports… it’s really creepy**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Tash! Be nice! I’m gonna accept her.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997 has accepted Samlicker81’s request.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Hey Becky :)**

**Samlicker81: Hi…**

**Samlicker81: Um. I’m not Becky.**

**Destiel4eva: woah PERV ALERT! MY MOM WAS RIGHT HANN GET THE SALT**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Calm down Tash, Jesus Christ.**

**Destiel4eva: state your name and purpose imposter!!**

**Samlicker81: Uhh… Chuck. Or ‘Carver Edlund’ I guess. And I’m here to ask for your help.**

**Destiel4eva: right. And I’m scooby doo. This is my sidekick sherlock frickin holmes.**

**Samlicker81: No, seriously, it’s true. We can webchat if you don’t believe me.**

**Destiel4eva: see? What’d I tell you? Perv.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: …you don’t think he’s really…**

**Destiel4eva: what?! Hann are you insane?? He’s clearly a weirdo hacking Becky’s account and trying to get us on cam**

**Samlicker81: I’m seriously not! I’m on Becky’s account because she’s my girlfriend and it’s the only way I could get you guys to talk to me.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Becky’s your GIRLFRIEND?**

**Destiel4eva: mother of god.**

**Destiel4eva: a moment of silence for this poor brave soldier**

**Samlicker81: Shut up**

**Samlicker81: Becky’s not THAT bad. Anyway guys I don’t have TIME for this, she’ll be back soon**

**Samlicker81: If I wasn’t Chuck how would I know that you’ve been talking to someone called Samfan69 for the past few weeks??**

**Destiel4eva: um idk maybe your GIRLFRIEND told you?? Idiot.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Tash… be nice.**

**Samlicker81: Okay, well then how do I know you linked him to wing!porn and hatched the great Destiel plot with him?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: OMFG**

**Destiel4eva: how the fuck do YOU know that?!?!**

Chuck chews his lip, determination settling in his eyes. He’s got around half an hour to explain the mechanics of prophet-visions to two teenage girls before his bordering-on-psycho girlfriend comes home and skins him alive for pretending to be her online. He starts typing.

* * *

 

Sam sits up in bed, stretching his joints with a grimace as the covers fall around his waist. He aches horribly all over, but that’s hardly surprising, and neither is the fact that he’s naked _again_ despite purposefully ensuring he went to bed last night in modest, long-sleeved pyjamas.

“Gabe!” Sam yells crossly, in no mood for his bullshit right now. “I know you’re here, show yourself you fiend.”

Nothing happens, the motel room remaining quiet and undisturbed as Sam glances around it, a little furtively. He’s not fooled – Gabriel has pulled the same kind of thing too many times to trick him into believing that he just shouted at an entirely empty room.

“Oh, so I guess my clothes just vanished into thin air of their own accord?” Sam asks loudly, one eyebrow raised as he watches all the corners for any signs of movement.

“Actually I incinerated them.” Gabriel says, grinning up at Sam like a Cheshire Cat from where he has suddenly materialised beside him, somehow already casually positioned under the covers. _He’s_ still fully dressed, Sam notices, yelping in surprise as he appears. “Awful, scratchy things. Plus you look so much better without them.”

Sam sighs, the annoyance seeping out of him as he notices Gabriel’s wandering eyes, raking over his bared torso, practically burning holes in his skin. He tries and fails to keep a small smile from creeping onto his face as the Angel ogles him. “Gabe, if you want me naked, you’re gonna have to work for it just like everyone else.”

Gabriel pouts in response as Sam folds his arms, a shield against his naked chest, blocking the Angel’s view. “But that’s _harrrd_.”

Sam opens his mouth to respond, about to explain that his body is prize-worthy stuff and is well worth the effort, but then, quick as a flash, Gabriel is climbing into his lap, straddling him and practically purring with excitement. Sam’s breath hitches, every coherent thought wafting out of his mind as he feels Gabriel suddenly everywhere, nuzzling at his jawline and…wait.

No, he actually _is_ purring.

The Angel’s whole body is on vibrate as Sam strokes his hands over Gabriel’s waist, wishing the shirt separating bare skin from fingers would disappear. Which of course it does, immediately, as though Sam had spoken the thought aloud. Gabriel leans close to Sam’s ear, knees either side of his hips on the bed, the Angel’s breath a soft tickle as he begins to whisper.

“Heard you comparing me to the Cheshire Cat a second ago… in your mind.” He explains huskily, referring to the purring. His hips are moving fractionally, rubbing the seat of his jeans against Sam’s crotch, just enough to make them both squirm. “I kinda like the idea.”

Sam never used to be much into role-playing, but Gabriel has opened his eyes to a whole new world in terms of sexual activities. Seriously, he’s never seen someone be so creative with jello.

So he's more than up for the idea of a little harmless kitty-dress-up – he even admits that the purring is kind of a turn on, especially when Gabriel pulls away from his ear, dragging spit-slicked lips over the pulse point on his neck, so that he can feel the vibrations all the way up his throat, rumbling deep in his chest. Gabriel’s tongue flicks out to taste Sam’s skin, as though he’s eagerly lapping up milk, and Sam is borderline helpless, arching his head back to give Gabriel better access. His hands grip the Angel’s waist, his nails digging into the soft skin, hard enough that it would cause pain on anyone mortal. It’s when he feels the soft tickle of several long, prickly whiskers against his collarbone that things start to get a little weird.

“Woah!” Sam cries, pushing sharply against Gabriel’s shoulders in shock. Gabriel leans back reluctantly, tilting his head at Sam as though he can’t fathom a possible reason for stopping. Sure enough, at least five whitish whiskers protrude out of each of Gabriel’s cheeks, fanning out like stiff hairs, bristling against one another as the Angel wrinkles his nose. Sam stares in equal parts horror and curiosity. “I… um… I did not agree to w-whiskers…”

“Shh, Sammy,” Gabriel purrs, a predatory smile on his lips as he crawls forwards, pushing Sam backwards as he goes, until he’s lying, stunned, underneath him, “let kitty take care of you.”

That’s it. Sam’s utterly gone.

_Hello new weird what-the-fuck cat!kink_ , he hails, all blood rushing immediately south as Gabriel pauses to stroke the newly-growing furry mounds emerging from the top of his head. In seconds he’s got two pointed, soft silvery ears, twitching in excitement as he leans over Sam, a knowing glint in his hazel eyes.

Sam reaches up, eager to touch, to check he’s not tripping on some hallucinatory mushroom – he wouldn’t put it past Gabriel to put shrooms in his morning coffee for fun – and is almost immediately smothered by Gabriel’s lips covering his, licking and tasting furiously, his darting tongue pushing its way into Sam’s surprised mouth, twining with his, the omnipresent purring making their lips hum against each other deliciously.

It takes a moment to catch up after Gabe’s surprise attack, but Sam eventually re-orientates himself as Gabriel continues kissing him intensely, pushing against his chest with his super-strength, holding him firm against the bed, pinned in place, ready to be ravished.

Sam would never readily admit this, but he kind of loves it when Gabriel gets all demanding like this, pinning him down, throwing him against the bed – all that. It started with that damn motel fic he read almost a month ago now, before he’d even considered the idea of ‘Sabriel’. Gabriel chuckles, probably reading his thoughts again, and Sam growls in retaliation around his kiss. Re-discovering the use of his hands, Sam threads his way up through the Angel’s hair, his fingers brushing against the fine fur of the two feline ears currently resting atop Gabriel’s coiffure. 

Gabriel makes what can only be described as a whine as Sam’s fingertips brush his extra ears, and he grinds down, pushing against Sam’s hardness, slipping a leg between his, despite Sam’s attempts to slow him.

“Gabriel,” Sam manages to grit out as Gabriel’s warm, wet lips close around his nipple suddenly, “take your damn pants off.”

He feels, rather than hears the Angel chuckle, adding to the vibrating sensations and not helping with Sam’s attempts to slow the pace down - lest it all be over very quickly.

“So demanding…”

Sam does not find this particularly amusing. Gabriel slips his hands underneath Sam’s hips, lifting him easily and dragging him a bit further down the bed. The Angel has started trailing more kisses now, starting at his nipple and working his way slowly down the planes of his chest, his tongue tracing the contours of his abs as he goes. The steady tickle of his whiskers down Sam’s waist along with vibrations of the purring are practically unbearable, and Sam can feel it _everywhere,_ thrumming through his entire body until he’s clutching the sheets, balling them up in his hands and pleading.

He thinks he knows where Gabriel is intending to go with this, his lips continuing their steady descent downwards, his fingers starting to ease the covers down Sam’s hips, and it’s not _fair._ He hasn’t even taken all his clothes off yet and Sam’s been naked from the start!

“Gabriel!” Sam spits out, barely coherent. The Angel looks up, pointed ears twitching in curiosity from where he’s currently poised above Sam’s jutting hipbone. “Pants. _Off.”_

Gabriel grins again, the Cheshire Cat expression coming to life in full force now. “Alright, alright you little diva.” He sighs, leaning back against his heels and flicking his jeans open with a click of his fingers.

The tail comes as a bit of a surprise.

* * *

 

“Hey Cas, you read this?”

“If it’s another article from ‘Busty Asian Beauties’, then I assure you no, I haven’t read it, and no, I don’t have any desire to.”

Dean rolls his eyes, placing the paperback he’s holding down on the empty side of the bed. The empty side where Cas should be. He looks at the space next to him, frowning. When did he make his side of the bed anyway? Look at those hospital corners – that’s ridiculous, how can Dean not have noticed him doing that?

“Come back to bed.” Dean whines, not moving at all except for the arm he stretches out, towards Castiel on the other side of the room, currently sat at the table and hunched over a laptop, frowning.

“We’ve been in bed for two days, Dean.” Castiel replies, not looking up from the computer screen currently colouring his face with a strange blue glow.

“Yeah, well I’m not done with you yet.” Dean says, grinning and patting the space beside him now. The book next to him jumps up and down as he does so, as if reminding him of its presence. Dean tuts at it, still refusing to give it the attention it wants. “Come on, what are you even doing over there?”

“Checking your emails.” Castiel replies simply. Dean’s eyes boggle.

“What?!” He asks, incredulous. “Cas, you can’t just read my emails! That’s an invasion of privacy-”

“Dean, as I have previously mentioned, your subscription to ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ doesn’t particularly interest me, and aside from that, there is a particularly unusual email here from-”

Dean jumps out of bed, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants he’d thrown onto the floor beside him in a fit of passion at some point in the last two days. He’s suddenly bright red because Cas is just _not_ allowed to mention his porn habits so casually, especially _now._ He stalks over to where the Angel is sitting, or rather crouching on the crummy motel chair, clad in only Dean’s boxers, one finger on the touchpad.

“Castiel, you get your cute, feathery ass over here right now-” He stops, cutting himself off as he catches sight of the email on screen over Cas’s shoulder. Cas just shakes his head at Dean’s words, smiling fondly, and continues to stare, head tilted, at the words in front of him.

**To: deanlovespie79@googlemail.com  
From: noreallyimcarveredlund@aol.com**

**Hi Dean, long time no see, right? I think the last time I saw you was the thing with the crazy ghost kids that liked to scalp people! Haha, good times.**

**I just wanted to send you a little pre-publishing warning about the latest book… I don’t know how much Sam’s told you abo-[pfewjkfqp[ke**

**Fd;lwqjf#q[pj**

**Fg[gjkr[krpek     [**

**Pk**

**DEAN THIS IS BECKY IVE PINNED HIM DOWNfnrejkl;b’jql;ekw]lw**

**Eq[rwkf’w;k**

**DON’T LISTEN FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST CARRY ON WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL HOMOEROTIC LOVE YOU AND CASTIEL ARE PERFECT IT WAS NEVER A PLAN DON’T LISTENnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn**

**Kf’;pe[#rit[3ro[#wo[piw#[riw[per[wikrpwj meprx[k[kr[fj[jf[rjkf[ek[ek  
}DENAN SAM WAS DOING GODS WORK DO YOU UNDERSTAND**

**DON’T READ THE BOOK**

**DON’T READ IT**

**DON’T READ THE**

**Message Received two days ago.**

“It appears to be from the prophet, Chuck.” Castiel says in summary, and Dean resists rolling his eyes.

He considers what he’s just read carefully, scanning it a second time, to be sure he understands what’s happening within the email. Dean is fully aware that Becky is, in his eyes, Asylum-level crazy, so if that really was her typing after having pinned Chuck down, perhaps there is a little reason to be concerned. He doesn’t like the feeling settling in his stomach, and he glances down at Cas, still in the same position on the chair, his wide eyes like two rock pools blinking up at him.

Okay, he thinks, so… work out the hidden meaning behind an email from a drunk and a crazy fangirl, or drag his new Angel boyfriend back into bed to muss up those perfectly made corners?

As if that’s even a question.

Castiel seems a little surprised when Dean leans down and kisses him, his mind probably still swimming with the keysmashes he’s just been visually assaulted with, maybe trying to decipher them as if they’re a code because that’s the kind of adorable idiot he is. Bracing himself against the back of the chair with one hand, Dean’s lips push against Cas’s, dragging against them to feel the slightly chapped, puffy skin, and his tongue reaches out, eager to taste. He licks a stripe across Cas’s bottom lip, sighing softly as the Angel parts his mouth, letting Dean in to envelope himself in the damp warmth, their tongues brushing against each other, tasting faintly of their morning coffee, and something akin to delicate, crisp snow.

It doesn’t take much convincing after that to pull Castiel over towards the bed – a hand holding the back of his neck, sliding into soft, black tendrils; another hand sliding up his thigh, fingers brushing through the sparse, thin hairs until they reach the hem of his boxers – and then they’re lying together again, in the same way Dean imagines they should stay permanently, with Cas under his fingers, pinned beneath his hips, staring up like he’s found his newest reason to have faith.

“Hey Cas… can you-” Dean starts to say, smiling a little as he looks down upon him.

“No, Dean.”

“Oh, come on.” Dean complains, sliding a hand over Castiel’s jutting ribs so that his thick lashes flutter beautifully. “You totally can’t know what I was about to say.”

“I’m a celestial being. Of course I know. And no, I can’t ‘get my wings out’ for your sexual entertainment.” Castiel replies, a little frostily, Dean thinks. He runs his hand over Cas’s nipple, pinching the tender flesh gently as punishment.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.” Castiel says, gasping a little as Dean’s fingers trace circles across his chest, straying up to dance across his collarbone, up the tender skin of his throat. “It’s strictly forbidden. The fact that I showed you once is enough to get me kicked out of Heaven.”

Dean grins at that and slides up Cas’s body, bending down until he’s level with the Angel’s ear. “Twice.”

“You know the second time was an accident, Dean.” Castiel responds, and Dean can’t be sure, because he’s busy nibbling at the Angel’s earlobe, but it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean moves his attention down to Castiel’s neck, sucking gently at the skin until he can feel Cas squirming underneath him. Cas’s hands reach up, sliding across Dean’s shoulder blades and trailing their way down his spine, making him shudder. “So… no wings? Really?”

“No, Dean. I’m afraid you’ll just have to make do with me as I am.”

Aw, now that was a low blow. Dean pouts, leaning up and staring into Cas’s eyes, their faces millimetres apart. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Their lips brush faintly as Dean says the words.

Castiel smiles a little, casting his eyes down and sending shadows of his eyelashes flickering across his cheeks. “I know.”

“Hey, didn’t you say that they might pop out anyway if you ‘lose control’?” Dean asks suddenly, lost in a memory of words spoken on a make-believe swan boat, in a pretend lake of floating candles.

“…That’s highly unlikely.”

Dean grins, his eyes lighting up, and Castiel looks mildly apprehensive. He doesn’t care if it’s unlikely - there’s a chance he could see those glorious appendages again, and hey, he loves a challenge. He pounces on Castiel, crashing their mouths together in a furious kiss, knowing that it doesn’t matter, Cas can take it so what’s the point in being gentle? Gentle is not going to get him excited enough to start sprouting feathers is it?

He feels Cas’s arms wrap around his waist, suddenly eager to keep up with the new pace apparently, and Dean reaches up past Castiel’s head, intent on bracing himself against the headboard. His fingers brush something stiff on the way, and he freezes, lips stopping their assault, to the accompaniment of Cas’s frustrated moaning.

He looks up, trying to place what the strange object could be in his mind, and then he remembers. The paperback lies motionless in the same spot he left it, just beside Dean’s fingertips, the cover blaring an obnoxious title at him.

**SUPERNATURAL  
‘Profoundly Bonded’ - #30**

**By Carver Edlund**

Castiel makes an ‘ahem’ noise as he stares at it, tapping Dean impatiently on the shoulder. Dean wants to brush the book aside and get back to (much) more important things – it’s just one of Chuck’s idiotic scrawlings after all - but he can’t get that email out of his mind.

What had Becky written at the end?

_‘Don’t read the book! Don’t read it!’_

Dean’s never been particularly good at the whole ‘obeying the rules’ thing. He grabs the book, bringing it towards him and holding it up in front of Castiel’s face. Castiel immediately swats it away, a seriously pissed off look on his face.

“Dude!”

“Dean, are you honestly going to _stop_ making love to me in order to read a trashy novel?” Castiel asks, fire in his blue eyes.

It kind of turns Dean on if he’s honest. “What? No, look Cas this is important!” Dean replies; leaning up on the elbow by Cas’s head he holds the book up again, a bit out of Cas’s reach this time. “I think that’s what the email was about – Chuck was going to warn us about whatever was in this book, and Becky cut him off.”

The rage simmers down slightly in the Angel beneath him, and Castiel’s eyes narrow, his gaze moving to the book’s strange cover. It depicts a ridiculous caricature of Sam and Dean, in all their flowing haired glory as usual -  but this time Cas is on the front too. The Angel is also shirtless – because apparently _everyone_ in Supernatural is incapable of being fully dressed according to Chuck. The cover-Cas, his wild unruly locks like a dark halo in themselves, is locked-eyes with cover-Dean, their faces mere inches apart.

“Where did you get a copy of that?” Castiel asks, his hands sliding down Dean’s waist – very distracting.

“Chuck sent it to me, special delivery. About two days ago. I thought it was kinda weird he knew where I was but then… it’s Chuck.” Dean answers, leaning back so that he’s sitting on Castiel’s thighs now.

Castiel doesn’t get up from his position, sprawled on his back, but he makes a ‘hmm’ sound and reaches for the book, his face filled with concentration.

“I can read it in a matter of moments.” Castiel explains as Dean hands it over. He flicks through the pages absently, like you would a flip-book, talking as he does so. “But it can’t be that bad, Chuck is only able to write true events of your lives, and since we’ve already experienced-”

Dean knows it’s bad when Castiel’s eyes go wide, and he stops speaking. Castiel reaches the end, the last couple of pages flicking away from him, and he drops the book, a look of something indescribable on his face.

“What?” Dean asks, panicking a little. His mind is thinking ‘demons? Vampires? Gods? Angels?’, and he wants to shake Cas, tell him to spit it out so they can load up on the salt and get going.

“Dean.” Castiel says, his voice sounding like it’s holding back a great deal. “Get Sam on the phone.”

* * *

* * *

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

Gabriel’s words float into Sam’s ears as he sits up abruptly in bed, an ominous feeling suddenly having threaded itself into his entire being. He feels suddenly overcome with a sickening paranoia, a terrifying feeling that everything is about to come crashing down around him. He knew things were too good to be true at the moment, what with Lucifer’s shenanigans seemingly on hold, and the whole both-Dean-and-I-get-our-own-guardian-angel thing.

His breath starts to quicken, and he looks around himself wildly, trying to find the cause of this sudden overwhelming dread. What could it be? Demons? His hunting skills are still second to none, and he has that gut feeling that something is very wrong, but it doesn’t feel like anything… supernatural. Not really.  

He turns to look at Gabriel beside him, finding himself staring into faintly amused, treacly eyes. His eyebrows are raised at Sam’s odd behaviour. The cat whiskers and tail are long gone thank goodness, that would have made it difficult to concentrate on the current dilemma, but Gabriel’s naked-ness isn’t exactly _helpful._

_What the hell have I done,_ Sam can’t help but fret, running over all his latest transgressions in his mind, trying to work out which one he might be about to face the punishment for.

There was the bite of Dean’s burger he stole last week while his brother was in the bathroom. Hardly a prison-worthy crime.

Or the other morning when he used his fake FBI badge to cut in line at Starbucks... yeah, that one he's not so proud of. But how is he supposed to function in the mornings without his one-pump soya mochaccino? He thinks he's pretty safe with this one too; how many people are going to seek revenge on a 6"4 FBI Agent, still grumpy from his lack of morning coffee?

And of course there’s the Great Destiel Plan… but nobody knows about that. Well, besides Chuck and Gabriel. And two girls online. Oh, and Becky. Whatever, the most important thing is that _Dean and Cas_ don’t know he meddled in their affairs.

So, if not those things, what could it be that has Sam feeling more uptight than a nun at a heavy metal concert? Groaning a little, he shimmies over in the bed, burying his face in Gabriel’s chest and trying to take calm breaths.

“Uh, Sam, I don’t mean to pry, but it seems to me like you’re having a mild panic attack.”

Sam can hear the rumble of Gabriel’s voice reverberating through his ribcage. It’s soothing somehow. He nods fractionally, not moving except to tighten his grip on the Angel’s shoulder. Gabriel chuckles, starting to stroke gentle fingers over the top of his haircomfortingly.

“Well, I can’t pretend to know what’s got you in a tizzy, but I _do_ know that when you’re feeling anxious, you should do something you know for sure will calm you down.”

Gabriel’s words are just soaked in innuendo, and Sam hears it, dripping off every syllable, but he chooses to ignore the Angel’s hidden request for more sex. Honestly, you’d think he might be tired after all the kitty stuff. Sam sure as hell is. He's flattered that Gabriel thinks he has such a quick recovery time, but really, he needs a little while.

There’s something else that Sam knows calms him down, something he hasn’t indulged in for a while now. And actually, Sam thinks, sitting up as Gabriel makes a spoilt little noise, it could be just the thing to help right about now.

“Gabriel!” Sam cries, leaning back down to plant a firm kiss on the Angel’s lips. “You genius.”

Sam allows himself a moment to just stare at Gabriel’s surprised face, his lips still reddened from all the kissing they’ve done over the course of the morning, and his hair in complete disarray. Sam’s glad he’s the only one that gets to see Gabriel like this, because now that he has him, he doesn’t want to share.

His relationship with the Archangel is somewhat complex, and he doesn’t like to get too deep when he thinks about it, for fear his brain will fall out, but Gabriel once spent an entire night explaining to him – under the covers, in between heated kisses and sweat-slicked touches – that he’d done everything, the mystery spot, the TV land to _help_ him, to warn him of what was up ahead. His methods were unorthodox, yes, but Sam kind of reeled backwards when he thought about that. This whole time… whether he knew it or not, he’s basically had his own Archangel watching over him. Crazy.

And to think, once he’d never even considered the idea of him and Gabriel together.  

Well, he has two teenage fangirls to thank for that.

With that in mind, Sam grins at Gabriel, kissing him again quickly, and ducking out of Gabriel’s grasp when he tries to hold him in place. Before he can be seduced yet again – Gabriel would likely conjure up a damn stripper pole if he thought it would get Sam in the mood again, which it would – he throws off the covers, jumping out of bed and practically sprinting across the room to grab his laptop.

Suddenly, he’s thrumming with excitement. Why hasn’t he done this yet? He should have talked to the girls weeks ago! He misses them terribly, what with their crazy, keysmashing ways. He still feels hopelessly concerned about something he still can’t place, but the anticipation of talking to two incredibly good friends again is surpassing that feeling. He drags the laptop back towards the bed, and hops in beside Gabriel, allowing a suddenly curious Angel to sidle up next to him, draping an arm over his chest as he stares at the screen, his head tilted.

It takes a while to boot up, and Sam uses the extra minutes to comb his fingers through Gabriel’s hair, the Angel’s head now resting on his collarbone. He purrs softly, and Sam chuckles; a leftover joke.

“You love it.”

Sam smirks a little, because he can’t deny it, not after he’s spent the last hour moaning and gasping in Gabriel’s (real) ears about how much he loves the cat dress up.

**Welcome back, Samfan69!**

_Finally!,_ Sam thinks, clicking onto the SlashFanChat and sending out a small prayer that the intense fangirling that Gabriel is about to witness won’t scare him away. Well, he already knows that Sam has read fanfiction about himself and Gabriel, so how much worse can it get?

“Samfan69…?” Gabriel asks, still staring at the screen, and Sam can hear the laughter bubbling behind his voice.

Oh, right. That much worse. This is _Gabriel._ “Shut up, it was late and I wasn’t thinking straight. The site suggested the name to me.”

“Riiight.” There’s a pause while Sam scans the screen-names of the people in the chat. “Sam?”

“Uh huh?”

“What are we doing?”

Sam tuts impatiently and shushes him, making Gabriel chuckle. It takes him a moment to find them, but eventually Sam is requesting a private chat with his co-conspirators and all is right with the world.

**Samfan69: GUYS!!!**

**Samfan69: I missed you two so much!!**

**Destiel4eva: :D**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Yeah, we missed you too, Sam**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: *Samfan**

**Destiel4eva: looool ;)**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: hahahaha HA.**

**Samfan69: …err yeah. So Chuck’s new book came out?!?**

**Samfan69: What did you guys think??**

**Samfan69: Did you freakkkkfkl'?**

Sam prides himself on his abilities as a typist; he is usually quite impressively fast, as well as typically being almost completely grammatically correct, but Gabriel, deciding he’s bored with the situation suddenly, has chosen to distract Sam in seemingly every way possible. Instead of sitting quietly like a good boyfriend/Angel would, he is currently choosing to trail light, teasing fingers over Sam's chest, while sucking gently on the skin of his neck, leaving pretty red marks that will have Sam wearing scarves and collared shirts for weeks. It has, in all, made Sam’s typing a little less coherent. Possibly.

**Destiel4eva: oh I totes freaked**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: I totally did NOT see that coming – Sam doing all that? Seems such a peculiar thing to do.**

**Destiel4eva: waaay OOC**

**Samfan69: OOC?**

**Destiel4eva: out of character**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Using an Angel trap sigil to imprison Cas, who’s been nothing but a friend to Sam?!**

**Destiel4eva: :/**

**Destiel4eva: dick move for Sam**

**Samfan69: Woah, woah! Hold on! Sam was doing it for Dean! AND Cas!**

**Destiel4eva: w/e**

**Destiel4eva: and the whole clothes shrinking thing – that was SO mean! Poor baby dean :(**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Totally. Sam’s a right asshole in the latest book if you ask me.**

**Samfan69: WHAT?!!**

Sam blinks at the screen for several long, drawn out moments. Gabriel’s nibbling has slowed to a steady peppering of soft kisses, and while it’s pleasant, Sam is so not in the mood anymore. Are these girls seriously saying that they didn’t _like_ the Destiel plan?!

After all the trouble he went to?!

Sam grits his teeth, colouring slightly when he thinks of how he tried to impress these girls with his fangirling skills, and now they just think ‘Sam’ is a loser who took it all too far.

No, he thinks. Dean is so happy! He and Cas are 100% meant to be, Sam is sure of it. And the ‘Sabriel’ is just an unexpected bonus, I mean, who would have thought Sam would get something out of all this too? These girls have got another thing coming if they think that Sam Winchester is not going to defend his own perfect, utterly successful plan – stupid username or not.

**Samfan69: Listen you two! YOU were the ones that were convincing me you’d do EVERYTHING IN YOUR POWER to make Destiel a real thing!**

**Samfan69: And now it’s happened, like for real, you’re just going to hate on the guy – fictional or not – that put effort and time into making it so? You’re so hypocritical!**

**Samfan69: Destiel is something I never even used to consider, but now I don’t understand how I could have been so blind! Dean NEEDS Cas, he needs him more than air, because Cas will love him to the depths of his damaged soul, he’s seen him at his very worst and loves him anyway**

**Samfan69: He loves Dean because Dean can’t love himself. Dean and Castiel are perfect for each other, it doesn’t even matter how it happened. You should just be happy that someone made them see it for themselves.**

**Destiel4eva: :L**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Wow, you sure sound a lot like a certain ‘fictional’ character there, Samfan.**

Sam pauses, his brow furrowing as he reads ‘MrsDeanWinchester’s’ comment again. What’s she getting at?

**Samfan69: …I’m just really into cosplay like you said**

**Destiel4eva: you know whats funny is that I hatched a plan reeeeally similar to the one sam has in the book with someone on this very site… oooh about a month ago now**

**Destiel4eva: but of course you remember that, don’t you samfan? ;)**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: What did you say your name was again? Your REAL name?**

Sam stops typing. Gabriel has started braiding his hair now, tying the ends with what feels like tiny strips of colourful ribbon. What’s happening? Are these girls… they couldn’t _know,_ could they? About his true identity?

How could they? Sam shakes his head slowly, making Gabriel scold him and tell him to stay still. Could they have been tricking him when they said they didn’t like ‘Profoundly Bonded’? Messing with him, trying to get him to inadvertently reveal the truth about himself? That seems mad, but…

**Samfan69: I… don’t know what you’re getting at**

**Destiel4eva: oh but I think you do**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Why don’t we start over? I’m Hann, this is Tash.**

**Samfan69: …hi?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Hello, Sam Winchester.**

**Destiel4eva: XD XD XD**

“Holy crap!” Sam practically yells, pushing the laptop away from him in sudden horror.

They _know!_ These rabid little teenage fangirls know who he really is! They know he’s real and he hatched the Destiel plot with them! What does this mean?

“Calm down, Sammy baby.” Gabriel soothes, apparently unfazed by the sudden dramatic uncovering of Sam’s online identity. This is distressing dammit! He was not expecting this. Gabriel’s hands slide up to Sam’s shoulders and he kneels on the bed. He starts to massage gently, working the tension out of Sam’s taut muscles. Knowing the Angel is attempting to relax him, he tries to calm himself, think about this rationally. He leans back against Gabe, letting his head loll agains the Angel’s chest, losing himself in the sensations of the massage. He supposes that maybe… possibly… it might not be that bad.

He knows these girls. They’re not like Becky. Maybe they can keep the secret?

But he needs to know _how._ How the hell do they know?

**Destiel4eva: OH MY GOD HANN THAT WENT EVEN BETTER THAN WE THOUGHT IT WOULD**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Hahaha. Aw, I feel kinda bad. Sam, you okay?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: It’s okay we won’t tell, we just wanted to mess with you.**

**Destiel4eva: come on though dude**

**Destiel4eva: I can’t believe you fell for that. Hello? Me not liking Destiel becoming canon??? I THOUGHT UP the plan with you idiot**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: …I think we may have scared him.**

**Destiel4eva: pfft. He’s not scared he’s just processing**

**Samfan69: Actually I’m a little scared.**

**Destiel4eva: loool**

**Samfan69: How…**

**Samfan69: ...what?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Long story short, Chuck told us the deal.**

**Destiel4eva: (sidenote: WE GOT TO TALK TO CHUCK THE CREATOR OUR GOD AHHHHH)**

**Destiel4eva: im done**

**Samfan69: I should have known. Why did he tell you??**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: He said he wanted our help.**

**Destiel4eva: plus we’re obvs just amazing, trustworthy people**

Chuck wants their help? Why? They’re just teenage girls! What could he need from them?

**Destiel4eva: Sam, what’s Lucifer like?**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: TASHA!! Jeez, you canNOT ask people that!**

**Samfan69: What does he need your help with? No offence, but he seems like he’s got a pretty good set up with the whole visions-writing thing.**

**Samfan69: And what do you THINK he’s like? Peely, sarcastic and a massive douchebag.**

**Samfan69: Chuck describes him pretty well.**

**Destiel4eva: huh. Peely.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Chuck said we have interesting Supernatural theories. He basically said we can just give our fangirly ideas straight to him now instead of going through you.**

**Samfan69: …oh.**

**Destiel4eva: duh! We’re still gonna talk to you all the time!**

**Destiel4eva: dude, you’re Sam frickin Winchester!!!**

**Samfan69: :D thanks guys.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Sam, I don’t mean to pry but… don’t you have err… something to get back to? ;)**

**Destiel4eva: HAHA**

Sam smiles and looks up from his monitor. Gabriel, now pouting from the lack of attention Sam is giving him, glares at him from the other side of the bed, arms folded. Okay, okay. Maybe his priorities are a little messed up… he has a naked Archangel in bed with him and he’s chatting to two teenage girls online.

**Samfan69: Ha, yeah I guess you’re right. Gabe’s looking a bit sulky.**

**Destiel4eva: OMG OMG**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: ‘GABE’!!! *dies***

**Destiel4eva: we are actually the luckiest fangirls in the world – we have a first hand insight into our otp’s lives!!!**

**Samfan69: lol okay guys. I’m gonna get back to dealing with my prepubescent millennia-old archangel. Speak soon x**

**Destiel4eva: awwww bye Sam!!**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: They are SO getting it on.**

Sam pretends he didn’t see that last comment. He signs out, smiling when he thinks of how his online friends now know everything about him – he doesn’t need to hide from them at all anymore, and it feels wonderful.

He can’t help the niggling sensation at the back of his mind that he’s forgetting something important – something that he initially signed on to the chat to do in the first place, but he can’t think of what that was.

He shakes the thought off and leans over towards Gabriel, trying to prise his locked arms apart. The Angel won’t budge, still frowning at him for daring to spend time doing something that didn’t involve him.

“Gabe, I’m sorry. I really needed to talk to those girls. They’re good friends.” Sam explains to no avail. Gabriel jut glares. Uh oh, Sam thinks, he must be really mad.

He leans further towards him, sliding a palm over his chest and attempting to soften his stony face with a few carefully aimed kisses. In a flash, Gabriel growls, and Sam finds himself flat on his back, the Angel pinning him by his wrists, straddling his waist like a cowboy.

It takes a few moments for Sam to realise that it isn’t Gabriel’s hands pinning him down, because the Angel is currently raking his fingers over Sam’s hipbones, trailing sharp fingers up his waist, tracing the outlines of his muscles. Instead, Sam deduces through a haze of pure ecstasy, Gabriel seems to be using some of those celestial powers to hold him in place, and he experiments a little, trying to move his arms up, to touch the vast planes of Gabriel’s skin above him, but he’s utterly held, unable to move.

Gabriel’s hands are rough, not enough to hurt, but just so that Sam knows he’s being punished. The Angel’s mouth is worse, all ferocity and teeth as he kisses Sam, barely allowing him time to breathe. Sam would complain if he wasn’t so turned on by it.

He tries again to lean up towards Gabriel, to kiss him, to touch him, anything, but Gabriel has him pinned down fast, and he can only lie, near motionless, as the Angel starts to move. He slides the length of his body over Sam’s under the thin covers of the bed, the sweat of their bodies the only lubricant as the burn of flesh on flesh starts to smother Sam completely.

Then the phone rings.

* * *

 

“This better be damn important.” Gabriel growls into Sam’s phone, grabbing it off the bedside table because Sam is ‘a little busy right now’. Sam just laughs quietly, biting his lip and waiting for Gabriel to cut off whoever it is on the other end of the line.

There’s a drawn out pause, and Sam wonders what’s happening. He stares at Gabriel, the Angel’s face still stormy because he was just interrupted in the middle of some awesome angry sex, but then he sighs. His expression becomes passive, then concerned as he listens to the voice in the phone, and Sam starts to get worried. He strains against his invisible bonds, the sinking feeling he felt earlier rearing its head again, twisting his stomach until he feels nauseous.

“Bro, you owe me.” Gabriel says, reluctance in his voice, and then Sam is free.

He rolls his wrists around experimentally, frowning at Gabriel in confusion. The Angel just rolls his eyes and clambers up beside him, passing the phone into his newly released hands on his way.

It’s with extreme trepidation that Sam brings that same phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sam.” It’s Cas’s voice, and Sam is suddenly ridiculously grateful. He lets all thoughts of kidnappers and actual devils-in-the-flesh fly out of his brain, and listens attentively.

“Cas, you guys okay?”

“We’re fine. Sam, I think there is something we need to discuss, urgently. If you would come up to meet Dean and I at the earliest available opportunity-”

There’s a sudden scrabbling sound, and Sam hears voices hissing at each other on the other end of the line. Sam frowns – is that Dean and Cas? Are they arguing again? Why would that be – he thought they were doing great! More than great, actually.

He waits, chewing his lip as the hissing and squabbling continues, and he thinks about what Cas just said. His tone was far from friendly, suggesting he’s angry with Sam about something, but what would that be? He’s done nothing wrong. Unless…

No. No it couldn’t be that. They couldn’t know about Sam’s _shenanigans_ last month.

Suddenly, there’s a loud crashing sound; Sam nearly jumps out of his skin, much to Gabriel’s amusement.

“SAMANTHA YOU GET YOUR MEDDLING BUTT DOWN HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”

“Dean?”

“Who the hell else is it gonna be Sam?!” Dean yells down the phone, and Sam can distinctly hear Cas’s voice now, chastising Dean for stealing the phone, telling him he’s perfectly capable of dealing with the situation himself.

“I don’t… why are you angry?” Sam asks, genuinely confused, and a little scared. Dean sounds really mad. Like ‘Nair-in-his-shampoo’ mad.

“LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW, SAM.” Dean yells again, and Sam thinks he hears Cas tutting in the background.

“Dean, I _don’t_ know. Look if this is about Gabe letting that raccoon free in your motel room, I had nothing to do with-”

“THINK IT’S FUNNY TO SHRINK MY LAUNDRY DO YOU SAM? SAY IT WAS ALL AN ACCIDENT?”

Sam’s mouth drops open, wordless. His blood turns ice cold in his veins, and he swears his heart stops beating. He turns to Gabriel beside him, looking faintly amused by the trivialities of human life as per usual. Sam grabs hold of him, horror flooding his every crevice.

“YOU THINK GETTING CAS TO POP HIS WINGS OUT SO I’D GET A BONER WAS HILARIOUS DO YOU?!”

Sam’s eyes squeeze shut, thinking of every damn thing he did to get Dean and Cas together, and somehow they both seem to know about them all. Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Oh, now you shut up.” Dean continues, and Sam can only listen, breathless. “I READ CHUCK’S GODDAMN BOOK, SAM! The great ‘Destiel’ plot, huh? Oh Sammy, you are in for a WORLD of pain.”

There’s a faint noise of protestation in Cas’s voice and the line goes dead.  

“Gabe…” Sam whispers into Gabriel’s chest, after he’s collected himself a little. “Th-they know… _everything._ ”

“So?” Gabriel asks, sounding genuinely confused. He’s stroking Sam’s hair again; it’s kind of nice actually, though Sam’s arousal disappeared at the first sound of Dean’s angry shouting.

“So, they know that I meddled! That I did _bad_ things to get them together, Gabe!”

Sam sits up, Gabriel’s hand leaving his hair and falling limply onto the bed. He’s not sure Gabriel understands, and that kills him. He wants to be able to talk about everything with the Angel, to let him share in his deepest troubles and worst dilemmas.

Gabriel makes an irritated ‘hmm’ and Sam gulps guiltily, sparing him a glance and remembering that he can read minds. He probably just heard all that. Great. Another thing to worry about.

“Oh for the love of Dad, Sam will you stop?” Gabriel cries suddenly, and before he knows it, Sam is somewhere completely different.

They’re sat on a park bench, somewhere Sam doesn’t recognise, and thankfully, they’re both dressed now. That would probably have alerted some passers-by otherwise.

“Gabe, what…” Sam starts to say, looking around himself wildly, taking in the crisp air, a cool breeze rustling the tall, willowy trees surrounding the park.

“Sam, you need to remind yourself why you did all this ‘Destiel’ stuff in the first place.” Gabriel says, one arm slung casually over the back of the bench, talking casually as though nothing at all has changed. “I mean, yeah, they’re mad at you cause they found out, but wouldn’t you be?”

Sam shrugs, his mouth open slightly. He’s finding it difficult to process what Gabriel is saying. “They were never supposed to find out!”

“Yeah, but they have. And they’ll get over it.” Gabriel says, shrugging in return. He grins at Sam, making him blush, which is mildly ridiculous, but he can’t help it, he’s been naked with the guy for the past two days. “Or do you think that finding out what – or in this case _who_ – got them together will make them any less crazy for each other?”

Sam shakes his head, and then shrugs. He honestly doesn’t know. Dean is a prideful creature, finding out that Sam manipulated him and Cas in that way could get under his skin. He could get angry, take it out on Cas, say things he doesn’t mean. Hey, Sam’s already heard the arguing first-hand.

“Sam, why do you think I agreed to help you out with this plan so readily?” Gabriel asks, and he’s actually chuckling a little. The arm on the back of the bench moves forwards, curling around Sam’s shoulders and Gabriel leans towards him a little. “They were already hopelessly in love you asshat, you just helped them along. With my help of course.”

“Really?” Sam asks, chewing his lip. He looks up at Gabriel, gazing into his whiskey-coloured eyes.

“Yeah, I know for a fact you never could have done it without me.”

“You know what I mean.” Sam says, irritated. He nudges Gabriel with his elbow, prompting.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re in love, we’re in love. You did everything right, stop fretting.”

“Did you just say we’re in-”

“Okay, now you need to shut your trap.” Gabriel interrupts, and kisses him.

* * *

 

“Cas! He’s not just gonna get away with this!” Dean yells, and Castiel is considerate enough to cloak the room, effectively soundproofing it so that other couples staying in the motel won’t hear him.

“Dean, I know you’re angry about this but you need to calm down-”

“Oh for God’s sake Cas, don’t tell me to calm down! Sam crossed the line!”

Dean seems extremely angry, and Cas is worried. He’s more than worried, he’s fearful. This discovery of the extent of Sam’s ‘plotting’ has changed everything, so it seems. And everything was going so perfectly. Too perfectly.

He should have known, really.

“Maybe if we let him explain himself-” Castiel tries, not moving from where he’s sat on the end of the bed, wearing one of Dean’s t-shirts now, and still in his same boxers from before. The book lies beside him, a constant reminder of the secret it holds, the one that is turning Dean into the hostile monster that seems all too familiar.

“Goddamit you should be angry about this too!” Dean storms over to the bed, and for one wild moment, Cas is reminded of the times Dean has thrown him onto the covers in a fit of passion, but instead he just snatches up ‘Profoundly Bonded’, snarling as he rips it open at a random page. “I mean just _listen_ to this: ‘Over the next five minutes, Sam managed to hammer out a plan of how to meddle in Cas and Dean’s completely obvious feelings for one another.’”

Castiel waits, hands patiently folded in his lap. He’s not entirely sure what Dean is trying to say – of course Castiel can’t be truly angry with Sam. His actions were ill-advisable, yes, and bringing Gabriel into the equation was a downright foolhardy decision considering recent events, but at the end of the day, Sam’s ‘meddling’ had brought Castiel and Dean together.

He can’t be angry with the cause of that miracle, no matter how strange or irresponsible the actions of the instigator may have been.

“Cas, say something!” Dean yells, throwing the book across the room suddenly. Cas actually flinches, though of course he has no reason to do so. He’s just afraid of Dean’s anger being directed towards him. “My moronic little brother _messed_ with us! Tricked us again and again so that we’d end up…”

“Together?” Castiel finishes, his voice barely more than a murmur. He’s locked eyes with Dean, staring up at him, his face a mask, as though he’s hiding the pain behind it. “Are you saying that you wouldn’t have kissed me, or said what you did, if Sam hadn’t ‘meddled’?”

Dean’s entire body drains of tension, and he gestures wildly, floundering. “No! Of course not!” There’s a pregnant pause. Castiel feels like he’s drowning. “Well, I don’t know! It’d be different, wouldn’t it? There’d be no reason! We wouldn’t be on a fucking Ferris Wheel- Cas, no wait!”

Castiel has risen from his seat on the end of the bed, and he strips off Dean’s t-shirt without a word. He can’t listen to this, it’s too painful, he's filled with an overwhelming horror, like his worst fear has been realised. He can barely breathe, he can't see properly, something wet is clouding his vision, and it takes a moment for him to realise he's crying, his vessel is crying for him. He feels like he’s going to burst out of Jimmy's body suddenly, the skin he's wrapped in feels too tight and he needs to escape. How can Dean be so casually cruel? Ripping the world out from underneath him like it’s not even important.  

Is Dean actually saying this? Is he actually okay with accepting that those memories they created together were all just an offchance, that they were manipulated by Sam into saying and doing what they did?

Why does it even matter? In Castiel’s eyes, what he and Dean have transcends any petty qualms either of them might have about Sam’s actions in the past few months.

He pulls on his clothes, ignoring Dean’s hand on his shoulder, his name on Dean’s lips. He can't listen to him any longer, he'll die if he hears Dean say he never meant what he said on that boat, in that Ferris Wheel, under the covers last night, hands clasped together like they were tethering each other to the spot.

Trenchcoat in place, he turns, facing Dean at last, a sheen of sadness still glistening in his ocean-filled eyes.

“Dean, I’m returning to Heaven.” Castiel says, and Dean opens his mouth to argue, to let out more venom-filled words. Castiel doesn’t give him time to speak. “If a ride in a swan boat and an accidental glimpse of my wings were the only things that made you want to be with me, perhaps we should reconsider our decision to embark upon a romantic relationship.”

Dean reaches out to grab him by the shoulders, to anchor him here, because his heart just dropped clean out of his body at Cas's words - _and oh god what have I done -_  but his hands close around thin air, and the Angel is long gone. 

* * *

* * *

 

It’s a damn good thing that Sam considers himself accustomed to Gabriel’s methods by now, because otherwise, when the Angel vanishes, completely without warning, leaving him in the middle of a park in who-the-hell-knows-where, Sam might be a little more concerned.

As it happens, he’s pretty sure Gabriel has deposited him to this particular spot for a reason, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what that reason might be. Gabriel had been lecturing him about how he needs to get a grip with the whole Dean/Cas situation. Therefore, Sam reasons, he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself currently within walking distance of the spot where his brother is holed up with the Angel.

Sighing, Sam stands up, looking down briefly at the outfit Gabe has chosen for him – a nondescript plain black jacket, a forest green V-neck underneath (maybe a bit racy, but hey, could be worse), and his usual, worn, frayed jeans.

He starts walking in an instinctual direction, following a couple meandering up the park pathway just ahead of him, their hands in each other’s pockets. The woman’s long black hair, secured in a tight ponytail, juxtaposed against the man’s tousled sandy locks reminds Sam of Cas and Dean, especially the way they seem to be unable to pass more than a few seconds without gazing into each other’s eyes.

Sam walks a little faster, remembering the fight he’d heard on the phone this morning. He can’t let them get into that state again – it was partly what had prompted this whole Destiel Plan in the first place; Dean getting moody with Cas, picking pointless fights for no reason because he was too afraid to admit any real feelings.

He exits the park, finding himself on the side of a road, and he looks around a bit, puzzled. Across the street are a number of run-down looking shops, selling comics and novelty tourist items. Sam wrinkles his nose, drawing his jacket tighter around himself as a breeze sweeps past.

He tilts his head up, looking for rain, and that's when he spots it. A giant vertical, neon sign flashes weakly in the light of day, it’s gaudy letters spelling out ‘MOTEL PARADISE’. Bingo, Sam thinks, infinitely glad he has such an in-depth knowledge of his older brother’s mind. He would definitely choose this place, especially if he was with Cas. The name would tickle him, he’d tease the Angel, ask him if it compared to the luxury he was used to in Heaven, or something equally stupid.

He crosses the street quickly, patting the inside of his jacket to find out if Gabriel thought to leave him with any cash, or a cellphone. He finds something better, and sends a prayer of thanks to his own Angel, promising to return the favour later.

The man at the check-in desk seems bored with life in general, and Sam’s dramatic entrance, flinging the door wide, practically jogging into the foyer – if you could call it that – seems not to faze him.

Sam tries to focus on the task at hand instead of the man’s greasy black mop, but his eyes flick back to it of their own accord every few seconds, regardless of his concentration.

“Checkin’ in?” The man drawls, reaching an arm up to grab a key off of the studded wall behind him, and showing off an impressive pit-stain in the process.

“No. Thank you.” Sam replies, trying to breathe through his nose so he won’t have to smell the foul sweat-and-damp aroma currently flooding the small, arid room. He reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out his badge. “I need to see your guest list, if you don’t mind.”

The man scowls, squinting a little at the letters ‘FBI’ before relenting, and he drags a stained, falling apart book up onto the counter before him. “Knock yourself out. I’m getting a coffee.”

With that, the man heaves his considerably large body off of the stool he was sat on, and disappears through a beaded curtain behind him. Sam wastes no time, running a list of Dean’s most-favoured aliases through his mind before he flips the book open, scanning the names for something that would be probable.

Right after the whole ‘get-together’ of both boys and their Angels back at Bobby’s over a month ago now, it was actually Gabe who suggested that the two couples both go their separate ways for a bit. A ‘honeymoon period’, he’d called it. The trouble was, while everyone was very much on board with that idea, including Sam, who was revelling in the knowledge he could literally get to Hawaii with just a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, nobody had actually specified how long the honeymoon period would be. So… it had kind of just gone on and on.

Well now we’re paying for it, Sam thinks begrudgingly, turning the crusty page over to scan through more unlikely names.

_John and Paul McCartney._

Really? Oh for Christ’s sake Dean, Sam thinks, rolling his eyes, these rock aliases are supposed to at least be _believable._

He traces the names with his finger, finding the corresponding columns showing the check-in date and room number. Once he has the information he requires, he sets off, taking the door to his immediate left, a staircase clearly visible through the glass pane.

The greasy guy probably won’t even notice he’s gone.

As he travels up the necessary two flights of stairs, fear starts to settle in his stomach again. Yes, Sam is on his way to help out his brother and his Angel-friend, but now… they _know._ They know everything thanks to Chuck’s stupid decision to send them a damn copy of the latest book.

Honestly, Sam could kill his favourite author for doing that; if ‘Profoundly Bonded’ had come out and stayed buried on the back shelf of the comic book store downstairs where it belonged, with only a few really dedicated fans exclaiming over its existence, Dean would never have read it! He would never be any the wiser about Sam’s involvement in his newly-discovered feelings for Cas, and everyone would have been much better off.

Sam sighs, reaching the landing and taking a gulp when he realises he must be almost there. He starts to make his way down the corridor, checking the doors on either side of him for their room numbers, and sighing in relief each time when he realises he’s got a little way to go yet.

Dean is going to _kill_ him. He hates being made a fool of, and he is not going to easily accept the idea that Sam was doing this for his own good.

He gulps again; he’s reached their door.

Oh well, he thinks glumly, trying to be brave, hopefully Cas’s presence will be enough to hold back the full force of Dean’s rage. He knocks on the door.

When there’s no immediate answer, he actually considers running away, pleading with Gabriel to send him a taxi, or even a tacky limo if he must, just as long as he can skip this part, and side-step the being-yelled-at-by-his-brother thing.

The door is wrenched open.

Dean stands there, fuming already, his hair damp and tousled as though he’s just stepped out of the shower. He doesn’t greet Sam, just hooks a few fingers into his v-neck and yanks him forwards into the motel room. The door slams shut so violently behind them that Sam actually fliches.

“Come on then!” Dean yells, his voice filling the room already, and Sam finds himself being shoved unceremoniously back onto the large unmade bed. He stumbles, sprawling out a little on the covers before sitting up to stare at Dean wide-eyed, fearful. “Explain yourself!”

Dean hurls something at Sam’s chest, and he flinches again, ducking his head in case Dean decides to hurl anything else. When it seems like he’s finished, Sam lifts his head up, looking at the object in his lap warily. It’s a worn, frayed copy of ‘Profoundly Bonded’, complete with a stupid Mills & Boon front cover as per usual. “I was just-”

“You know what?” Dean interrupts, cutting Sam’s meek little attempt at an explanation off before it’s even out of his mouth. “I don’t wanna hear it, Sammy! I mean what the fuck?! We’re in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse and you decide the best thing to do is play Cupid?”

“Dean, that’s not-”

“No, shut the hell up Sam. You don’t get to decide how I feel about anyone – not Cas, not _anyone_ do you get that?!”

Sam grits his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he forces himself to meet Dean’s gaze. His brother is honestly the most stubborn person he knows, and it’s not going to help the situation at hand. At all.

“Cas and me, we didn’t _need_ you to make everything all complicated, okay?” Dean continues, jabbing a finger at Sam as he remains sitting on the end of the bed, Dean towering over him. “I don’t meddle in your life, Sam, Jesus! Who the hell do you think you are?”

Sam stands up suddenly, his fists clenching a little as he decides he’s had enough. The book slides to the floor, landing between them, and for once, Sam is ridiculously glad he’s so much taller than his brother.

“Oh for God’s sake Dean, for once will you just let this go?!” Sam cries, only just resisting the urge to grab Dean by his shoulders and shake him to hammer the point home. “Yeah, fine, I’m sorry, really – I meddled, and you’re right, maybe I went too far. But tell me something, Dean.” Sam pauses, bringing his face infinitesimally closer to his brother’s. “Was it worth it?”

The two of them stare at each other for a long, drawn out length of time, each seeming to be unwilling to be the first to back down.

Eventually, Dean sucks in a breath, and drops his chin to his chest. Sam tries not to smile in triumph.

“Yeah, it was.” Dean murmurs, and it sounds grudging, but at least it’s there. Proof that Sam’s fangirling instincts are second to none.

“Alright then.” Sam says, gently, not wanting to say the wrong thing and get Dean flying into a rage again. “Where is he?”

Sam looks about himself, scanning the small room quickly for any signs of a cowering Angel in the corner. Poor Cas – he undoubtedly got the brunt of Dean’s initial wave of anger over the book. God knows what went down between them before Sam got here.

“He… he took off.” Dean says, his voice still hard and unforgiving, signalling that he is still seething underneath his calmer demeanour. “Heaven I think.”

Dean takes a few paces backwards, and starts to meander across the room, mostly to avoid Sam’s gaze. He crosses to the bleary, dirt streaked window and looks out, eyes glazed.

“Dean… what are you…” Sam tries not to sound too horrified as he addresses his brother – he doesn’t need to get into another fight, that won’t help anything. But if Dean has really said something to scare Cas away… that’s all Sam’s hard work down the drain! All the planning, the weeks of toiling over the Destiel cause! _Goddamit Dean, why do you have to be so hot-headed when it comes to your fragile little Angel?_ “What happened?”

Dean’s lips press together, and Sam only sees it in profile as his brother continues to stare out of the glass at the city beyond. “I might have said… I dunno Sam. I said some stuff.” Dean raises a hand to his forehead, rubbing the skin there and closing his eyes. “Stuff I didn’t mean.”

Sam nods, though Dean can’t see him from where he is. This next part is going to be tricky. Dealing with Dean right now is like diffusing a live bomb. But in order to get the Great Destiel Plan back on the tracks (which is apparently what he has to do now – thanks a lot Chuck) he needs to talk this out with the man in front of him. Something he honestly never ever wanted to have to do.

“Dean…” Sam begins, and Dean doesn’t answer, still fixated on the building over the road apparently. “Did you honestly never think of him… you know. In _that way?_ ” Sam pauses for a second. “Before all the crazy Destiel plan stuff, I mean.”

For a few minutes Sam shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, thinking that if Dean just doesn’t answer – what then? What if he can’t get through to Dean? Will Destiel be a lost cause? What would the Supernatural fans say? What would happen to Dean?

Or Cas…

Suddenly Dean steps away from the window, moving into the shadow covering the far side of the room, where his bag is lying open on the floor, several garments spilling out of it. He reaches down towards it, rummaging through the various shirts and other items of clothing for a second before pulling a brown bottle free, it’s label reading ‘Whistler’s Finest Whiskey’.

“Yeah I guess.” Dean replies finally, unscrewing the cap and taking an extremely long swig. He drinks enough for Sam to understand that saying that much was no easy feat, and he appreciates it. “Maybe once or twice, y’know. I dunno, man. He’s so… so… _starey._ ”

Sam smiles when he says that, thinking of how he’d first noticed the staring back when the girls had told him about online. Adorable.

Dean huffs a small laugh, and Sam takes it as a personal victory. “I mean, most of the time yeah, we were just friends – good friends, I’ll grant you – but there’d just be these moments, like when I’d realise who the fuck I’m talking to,” Dean chuckles, and Sam joins in, accepting the bottle when Dean crosses the room to hand it to him, before taking a seat beside him on the bed, “like an actual damn _Angel of the Lord,_ who decided oh hey, I’ll pop down into hell and drag this guy up cause he seems fucking _worthy of being saved_.”

Sam smiles at Dean beside him, marvelling with him when he absent-mindedly brushes the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his handprint scar, still huge, puffy and pink, seared onto his skin like a brand, a permanent reminder of Castiel’s claim on his soul. He hands the bottle back over, mindful of how overwhelming something like that must feel.

“Sometimes he’d visit me in my dreams.” Dean says, almost as an afterthought, and he takes a sip of whiskey to wash the words down. “Then later, when I started dreaming about him on my own… I couldn’t tell which was real anymore.” Dean smiles at that, and he looks down at the bottle in his hands, fingers toying with the label. “I used to complain to him about it, tell him I needed my privacy, but I didn’t mind. Not really. Dreaming of him more than beats dreaming of hell, any day.”

“So, you admit…” Sam begins hesitantly, scanning Dean’s face for any signs of the thunderous expression he saw when he first arrived. “…there was something there? Before I… did anything?”

Dean shrugs, obviously not wanting to admit to it fully, but as his lips close around the neck of the bottle again, he nods. Just fractionally, but enough. He pulls the bottle away with a pop. “Never would have become anything though.”

Sam rolls his eyes. _So what are they arguing about, then?_

“Okay, Dean – I love you, but you’re an idiot.” Sam says, staring at his brother with raised eyebrows to emphasise the point. He’s not dancing around this anymore. And he’s damn well not apologising again. “You’re seriously gonna sit there and yell at me for bringing the ridiculous, planet-sized love you guys felt for each other into fruition? I didn’t _make_ you do any of the things you did during that month, Dean, I just created the environment for them to happen in. Like Gabe does, with his crazy worlds and stuff.” Dean’s mouth is agape slightly, and Sam considers stopping there to let what he’s said so far sink into Dean’s brain, but he doesn’t. “I hate to break it to you dude, but ‘Destiel’ was a real thing way before I got involved. I have two very dedicated people to back me up on that. And also, you basically just admitted it yourself.”

Dean swallows, probably regretting the amount of whiskey he’s downed in the past five minutes. “Sam…” Dean begins, and Sam holds his breath. This could go a lot of different ways. Castiel is probably up in Heaven right now, nursing a beaten up heart thanks to Dean, and Sam’s basically the only guy that can fix it. If his stupid brother doesn’t open his eyes and see what he’s got right in front of him in regards to that Angel, Sam is pretty sure he’s a lost cause. And he’s not letting that happen easily. His brother deserves happiness, deserves Cas, who will love him unconditionally until literally for all of eternity. Dean swallows again, so obviously thinking of that same Angel. “You got any more crazy-ass ideas stored away? I think I need to do some grovelling.”

Sam’s grin is so wide he’s pretty sure it’s splitting his face in half. “Oh Dean, don’t you worry.” Sam digs an enthusiastic hand into his jeans pocket, watching Dean’s suddenly anxious face as he pulls out his phone. “You’re not the only one with an Angel up his sleeve.”

* * *

 

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: And then Sam persuades Gabriel to pop up to Heaven and look for Cas!**

**Destiel4eva: isn’t it the perfect storyline??? We thought of it earlier while we were writing fanfic**

**Destiel4eva: a collab. We’re following in your footsteps chuck, becoming writers ;)**

**Samlicker81: But Gabriel hasn’t returned to Heaven for thousands of years! Why would he return now?? For the sake of a lover’s tiff! It barely makes sense, girls.**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Hmmm….**

**Destiel4eva: have Sam tell Gabe that if he finds cas, brings him back etc, he’ll get a blowjob out of it**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Perfect.**

Chuck eyes the words on screen sceptically. Yes, so okay, he’s undeniably suffering from a severe case of writer’s block, but are these girls maybe getting a little extreme with their ideas? He’d only recruited them in the first place because frankly, he was a little sick of the blackouts and prophet malarkey, plus ‘Profoundly Bonded’ had been his highest selling book in the series so far, which was down to these two in no small part, considering they were the ones behind the Great Destiel Plan in the first place. His readers really seemed to love that whole ‘Destiel’ storyline. In his personal opinion it lacked monster gore, but hey, each to their own, right?

So far, their help has been very interesting indeed; they’ve given him some really good suggestions, much to the chagrin of Becky, who watches the proceedings from a chair nearby, usually with her nose in a Supernatural book (so embarrassing) and trying to slip in her own advice wherever she can. It’s not that he doesn’t want Becky’s help, but Chuck is a little afraid of asking her, if he’s honest. He’s read her fanfiction – far, far too many times for his own comfort – and it can get pretty freaky with its narratives. Who knows what kind of wayward ideas she’d demand he put in to the original stories if he let her?

So, for the time being, Chuck is reasonably satisfied with his new system, getting his main ideas from the two girls behind their computers somewhere in San Francisco, and not needing to buy and consume copious amounts of alcohol to deal with the crippling headaches/visions.

He sometimes wonders whether he might be messing with fate or something, considering he’s a prophet, and whatever he writes supposedly _has to_ come true… but then isn’t that only if he’d dreamed it first? Prophet thinking is really enough to drive anyone crazy, so he usually distracts himself from those trains of thought by going to give Becky a surprise kiss. Her responding giggle is enough to divert anyone’s attention.

* * *

 

The air feels thicker than he remembers when Gabriel returns to the Heavenly realm, as if the very atmosphere is treacle, weighing down upon him. He shakes out his wings, grimacing. He cloaks himself immediately of course – if he were to be seen up here now, he would surely be imprisoned, exiled, or even killed – but he has to stop by, just for a short while.

His little brother has run away, so it seems.

He flies effortlessly, adjusting easily to the new, vaguely familiar sensations that Heaven brings about against his skin, and he feels the slide of still, heavy air over his golden feathers as he goes, scanning the places around him for signs of runaway, blue-eyed Angels with slightly shattered hearts.

It doesn’t take long to find him, Castiel never was one to stray from his routine, especially in Heaven, so Gabriel flies straight to his little brother’s favourite spot. Lo and behold, there he is, in his favoured ‘eternal Tuesday afternoon’ – the imagined paradise of an autistic soul, whom Castiel had watched over, briefly, on Earth.

Castiel stands in the garden, gazing up at the kites flying overhead, his face a troubled frown. Gabriel stands still for a moment when he lands on the soft grass, not wanting to alert Castiel, and also because his brother’s wings always catch him off-guard. In Heaven they’re on full display, a symbol of an Angel’s courage, bravery and strength in terms of their purpose. Castiel’s wings are enormous, incandescent in the light of the Heavenly sky, rippling in technicolour before sliding back into their rich, royal blue, almost black.

They suit him well, and they are utterly beautiful, even for an Angel. For a moment it is all Gabriel can do to stand and marvel at them. Then Castiel turns, sensing him, his wings flaring in a defensive stance.

“Gabriel!”

Castiel’s Angel blade has slipped into his palm – a result of Gabriel uncloaking himself, almost like an instinct.

“Little bro,” Gabriel acknowledges gently, kindly not staring at the tear-tracks staining Castiel’s cheeks, “how’s it hanging?”

“I never understood that expression.” Castiel replies after a moment, tucking his blade away when he sees that Gabriel is not a threat.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows and nods, as if to agree that he never understood it either. He steps closer to Castiel, ignoring how the other Angel tenses, obviously itching to spread those glorious wings and fly away.

“I hear you and the less-attractive Winchester had a little lover’s spat.” Gabriel tries, ducking his head to try and get into Castiel’s line of vision; the Angel is pointedly staring at a point past his head, not wanting to make eye contact. “That true?”

Castiel glares at Gabriel for a second, but he doesn’t seem to be able to stay angry for very long. He casts his gaze down to the floor, defeated, and Gabriel wonders if he’ll cry again. That’s not normal for an Angel, the crying, not one that isn’t falling anyway. “It wasn’t a ‘lover’s spat’, Gabriel. Dean said…” He takes a shuddering breath in, his wings rippling with the effort, “…he informed me that he wouldn’t have been interested in pursuing a relationship with me without Sam’s… help.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes then. A little part of him – the part that hadn’t been admonished time and again by Sam Winchester for his dastardly deeds - wanted to kill Dean for hurting his baby brother in such a ridiculous, unnecessary way. He definitely got the better brother out of the deal, Gabriel thinks.

_Right,_ Gabriel decides, puffing up his own – considerably awesome – wings, their gleaming colours reminscent of syrup and sunlight, to show he was in no mood for any bullshit, _time to do some damage control._

“Castiel.” Gabriel says sternly in his most authoritative tone, walking all the way up to his brother now and placing a firm hand on his trenchcoated shoulder. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your choice in companion is, unfortunately, a muttonhead.”

Castiel looks down at Gabriel quizzically, clearly wondering if he should, in fact, be offended by that statement.

“So you read all about Sammy’s big, daft ‘Destiel’ plan, right?” Gabriel asks, seemingly not requiring an answer. Castiel nods anyway, slow and unsure. “Well then, you already know that Sammy’s _reasoning_ behind it, while perhaps not advisable, was because you’re too much of a scared little virgin to even tell Dean you like his army boots, and he’s too obsessed with gender roles and concepts of masculinity – thanks Daddy Winchester – to admit he’s butt-crazy in love with his best guy-Angel friend.”

“According to Dean, he wasn’t at all ‘butt-crazy in love’ before all this-”

“Would you shut up for a sec and let your big brother give you a valuable life lesson?”

Castiel looks pouty but stays silent, not moving as Gabriel comes to stand beside him instead, sliding an arm round his shoulders, their wings companionably brushing against each other behind them.

“Look, the point I’m making is that Dean Winchester gets _really_ freaked out about all the macho-man bullcrap that human society is currently shoving down everyone’s throats – honestly it’d probably have been a lot easier if you’d skipped this and gotten yourself a girl vessel… does Jimmy have a sister? Never mind – basically when he read Chuck’s latest masterpiece, he found out that his masculinity had been compromised. By his own _brother._ I mean, thousands of screaming teenage girls have just read about him getting all gooey over you as a result of Sam’s plan, you can hardly blame him if he says a couple of things he doesn’t mean in retaliation to that, can you?”

“How can you possibly know that he didn’t mean it, Gabriel? You didn’t see him. He was so angry, he looked disgusted by our entire relationship. Like it was based on lies.” Castiel shrugs Gabriel’s arm off, turning away and walking a few paces to the left. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“How can I know? Because it’s fucking obvious, Castiel.” Gabriel replies, blinking at him. Castiel whirls around, eyes wide, his wings fluttering wildly in a panic.

“Gabriel! You can’t _swear_! This is Heaven!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but zippers his mouth closed. Literally.

“You really think he didn’t mean it?” Castiel asks tentatively, his wings wrapping around his shoulders like a cocoon. It would be adorable if it didn’t make Gabriel want to throw up in his mouth.

He just stares at Castiel eyebrows raised, unable to verbally confirm his response due to the zip sealing his mouth shut. When Castiel still looks unconvinced, Gabriel decides he and Sam are going to need to get a little drastic.

* * *

 

“I don’t want to see him, Gabriel. Not yet.” Castiel says once they land back on the earthly plane. Gabriel sighs, but nods. It had been a long shot that Castiel would immediately agree to that.

“That’s fine, Cassy. I just gotta make a quick call, then we’ll hit the bars, get you nice and intoxicated and bitch about those damn plaid-shirt abusing boneheads.”

Castiel smiles at him weakly, though Gabriel suspects he didn’t find that particularly amusing. He’s really hurting, the poor idiot. He moves away from Cas, leaving him on the busy sidewalk - ‘people-watching’ as he calls it - while he walks a bit further away, pulling out his cellphone to call Sam.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Where have you _been?_ You’ve been ‘out of area’ for hours! Do you have any idea what Dean’s been like in that time? He’s practically catatonic, Gabe!”

Gabe can’t help but smirk at the sound of Sam’s whiny, petulant voice coming through the end of the phone. Hilarious.

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m pretty sure the Elysian Fields count as _out of area,_ smartass.”

“…Shut up.”

“And calm down, I’ve retrieved one half of the tragic couple, mission complete, over and out.”

“Well, it took you long enough.”

“Hey, I’m only doing this cause you promised I’d get a blowjob out of it, remember? I could back out anytime I want.”

“As if you’d back out now. My blowjob technique is world-renowned.”

Gabriel chuckles, considering that actually, there might be some truth in that statement, seeing as he’s bragged to people about Sam’s sexual abilities on almost every continent by now.

“Gabe, focus. What now?”

“Stage two of the plan, right princess?”

“Good. I was sure you weren’t listening to me when I was talking about the new plan.”

“Well you were doing some very distracting things at the time…”

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you at the place you said in a few. With Cas.”

“Love you Sammy.”

“Bye, Gabriel.”

“I _said,_ I LOVE you, Sam.”

Several people passing Gabriel on the street look up in surprise and faint amusement at the loud declaration. Gabriel can practically feel the heat radiating from Sam’s cheeks down the phone.

There’s an exaggerated sigh. “Love you too. Bye.”

Gabriel is left listening to the dial tone, but he doesn’t mind a bit.

* * *

 

When Castiel steps into the darkened building, he’s not sure what he’s going to find. He kind of lost all hope of _actually_ being taken to a bar when Sam appeared, showing up just as he and Gabriel were about to go into this – extremely unlikely looking, very run down – building down a side-street somewhere.

Castiel was immediately on red alert, because constantly confused he might be, but stupid he is not, and any idiot knows that wherever Sam is, Dean is no more than two steps behind. But Sam immediately reassured him, along with Gabriel, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him from flying away.

“Sam’s just here for extra emotional support!” Gabriel explained brightly, slipping an arm around his lover’s waist.

“I’m sure you can understand why I of all people find that difficult to believe.” Castiel replied, eyeing Sam warily. “No offense Sam, but you’re kind of the cause of this whole mess.”

“Err… none taken?” Sam answered, fidgeting a bit. Gabriel’s fingers ran up and down his arm, soothing.

After that, Castiel kind of resigned himself to an evening of watching his brother and the younger Winchester canoodling and cajoling him into getting back together with Dean. He supposed it could be worse; at least Dean wasn’t actually _here._

The others sent Castiel on ahead, telling him to secure a table inside, because they needed to discuss something ‘privately’. Castiel has limited experiences in the code of human relationships, but even he can tell that this was a barely disguised ploy for Gabriel to get Sam on his own for a few minutes. He sighs sadly, thinking of the several times during cases in the past month that Dean had said similar things to police officers and interviewees, apparently unable to keep his hands off his Angel for more than five minutes.

“Stop thinking about it.” Castiel chastises himself, walking through the practically unlit corridor. The place looks utterly deserted so far, and Castiel considers just flying back up to Heaven, though things aren’t exactly great up there either.

Finally, the hallway opens out into a large, spacious room, filled with the kind of equipment an Angel of the Lord should never have to be exposed to in the flesh. Castiel closes his eyes, cursing everything.

“ _Gabriel._ ”

* * *

* * *

 

“Yep, he’s in. All systems go. Over and out.” Gabriel says, grinning with excitement. He has his eyes squeezed shut, concentrating on Castiel’s movements inside the building. When he opens them, Sam is staring at him, eyebrows raised.

“You know, you don’t have to talk like that, I’m standing right next to you.”

Gabriel sighs rolling his eyes like he’s ruining the fun. “Just shut up and get Dean will you?”

“Okay.” Sam nods, turning on his heel, but he pauses, spinning back to face Gabriel, a little nervous. “Gabe, what is this place? What’s in there?”

Gabriel grins, and okay, Sam does _not_ like the mischievous glint in his eye. He needs to pick his co-conspirators more carefully. Not everyone can be as good as his two best gal-pals.

“You… probably don’t wanna know just yet, Sammy.”

Sam is about to argue, to demand that they move the location of this plan somewhere else right friggin now, but he knows they’re running out of time. He sent Dean to park the car about fifteen minutes ago, and his brother’s going to be pissed if he has to wait on Sam any longer. He decides to just go with it.

“…Whatever. And Cas definitely can’t mojo his way out of there?”

“Not a chance. I painted the walls of this place three-inches thick with sigils.”

“Ew. Okay, I’ll be back in a minute then. Time for the final stage of the Great Destiel Plan: Epilogue.”

Gabriel scoffs a laugh, grabbing hold of Sam’s jacket to hold him in place for a second. “You’re such a nerd.”

“You love it.”

Gabriel just grins and tugs him down for a quick kiss before Sam pulls back, wipes the back of his mouth in a dramatically disgusted manner, winks, and turns to retrieve his brother.

* * *

 

“This bar better have strippers. Hot ones. With big, friggin sky-blue eyes.” Dean grumbles as he marches along beside Sam, matching his fast pace without difficulty.

“Don’t worry Dean, this is the best bar in town. All the travel guides said so.”

“Nerd.” Dean replies.

It’s getting dark now, and Sam hurries, thinking of Castiel in that building, like a bull in a cage, battering his Angelic powers against the walls, trying to get out. How long till he wears down Gabriel’s defences?

They near the side street and Sam nearly shudders in relief. Dean slows a little as they walk down it, clearly suspicious already, and that’s not a good sign. “Just what in the hell kind of bar is down a damn alley-”

He stops mid-sentence, his teeth clamping shut when he spots Gabriel, leaning casually against the door of the ‘bar’, grinning at Dean.

Sam manages to grab Dean’s shoulders before he legs it, anchoring him in place.

“Sam!” Dean yells, struggling against his brother’s death-grip. “Don’t you think I might _know_ what you’re doing?! I’ve read all about your damn _plans_!”

Sam gulps, but resists shooting a look of unease at Gabriel. “Dean, calm down! Gabe’s just here for…”

He trails off, Dean distracting him by trying to prise Sam’s fingers off one by one.

“Emotional support, chicken-brain.” Gabriel is suddenly beside them both, one elbow resting casually on Dean’s shoulder, atop Sam’s hand as he struggles. Eventually, Dean quietens, eyeing them both suspiciously.

“Emotional support?” Dean asks, scepticism lacing his voice.

“Yeah! You and my bro are going through a rough patch. Are you seriously saying you don’t need some consoling?” Gabriel asks, tapping Sam lightly on the small of his back, indicating he should release his hold on Dean.

Sam does so, reluctantly, and Dean rubs his shoulders, glaring at his brother. “I guess. Seeing as some people clearly have no idea _how_ to console.”

Sam just scoffs and turns away, thinking that _if only he knew._ And then he remembers that, oh right, he does know. Everything.

“Look, can we just go get shitfaced already? I’m sick of feeling terrible. Oh, and if I mention wanting to drunk dial my kind-of Angel boyfriend tonight, let me remind you that I will not need a phone for that, and therefore you should probably just tape my mouth shut.”

Gabriel grins and slings an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “I can totally do that, kiddo.”

As the Angel steers Dean over towards the door of the building, Gabriel sends Sam a wink over his shoulder, and Sam grins.

“Oh, almost forgot, I need a quick word with Sam. Go get us a table big boy, we’ll catch up in a sec.”

The slap on his rear distracts Dean from any suspicion he might have felt at Gabriel’s words, and he frowns at the invasion of personal space, but complies, hoisting the door open and stepping inside. It’s a bit of a shock when it swings shut so violently behind him.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you just slapped my brother on the ass.” Sam grumbles, shaking his head from where he’s bent over, fiddling with the padlock in his hand. It’s securing the door in place, but the damn key is sticking, refusing to turn and seal his brother and Castiel in their reconciliation-room for the evening.

He should have just used Bobby’s panic room again. Though he doubted it would have been very easy to get them both in there, after last time.

“Aw, are you jealous baby?” Gabriel asks, the hand currently resting on Sam’s back slipping casually down to crest the hem of his jeans. Sam jerks away, scowling at Gabriel before returning his attention to the padlock in his hand. “Woah! You _are!_ ”

“Can we just focus, please?” Sam asks, irritated, getting more and more ferocious with the mechanism as it refuses to budge.

Gabriel sighs and Sam feels the hand lift from his lower back. Before Sam can blink, Gabriel is batting his hands away from the padlock, and covering it with his own. When Sam looks down again, the door is secure.

“Sammy, I was only trying to distract him. You know I only have eyes for your gorgeous behind.” Gabriel explains, his eyes darting to Sam’s ass, emphasising his point.

Sam just rolls his eyes, deciding he’d let it go… for now. “Whatever. Are you gonna tell me what this place is now?”

“By day?” Gabriel asks, grinning. “It’s a sex torture dungeon. Nobody here tonight though.”

Sam splutters a laugh. He can’t help it – the absurdity of the idea of Cas and Dean being locked together in a sex torture dungeon is too much to bear. He kind of wishes that were actually the case, really.

“Come on, Gabe.” Sam says, still chuckling a little. “What is it really?”

Gabriel just raises his eyebrows at Sam, pointed, a little proud of himself. That is when Sam realises he may have made a rather monumental mistake.

* * *

 

When Dean has finished scaring himself to death creeping down the ominous and unshakeably haunted-feeling corridor, he finds himself in a fucking sex dungeon. Not that he’s ever been in one before, but he’s seen enough porn in his time to know what one looks like – and this one is fully equipped with more than the basics. Dean gulps audibly, taking in the sex swing, the iron rack, the whipping bench, the big, harnessed wheel thing that- dammit, he doesn’t even _want_ to know.

He’s about to take his chances plunging back into the undoubtedly ghost-infested hallway, but then something moves out of the corner of his eye. He stills, preparing himself to fight off a monster, and hoping to God that he doesn’t have to use one of those leather whips by the far wall as a weapon.

He glimpses beige trenchcoat a fraction of a second before it disappears, hidden behind a large spiked…instrument.

“Cas.” Dean sighs, cursing himself for not seeing this coming. He’s not speaking to his brother ever again. “I know you’re there. Come out.”

It takes a few moments, but eventually Dean spots a sliver of Castiel’s head peering round the black, iron rack thing in front of him, looking… well. Terrified.

“Cas, come on. It’s just me, I know this is sucky, but they locked us in here. I’m not gonna yell at you anymore if that’s what you’re-”

Dean’s sentence is unfortunately interrupted when all the breath is knocked clean out of his lungs as he’s tackled to the cold, concrete floor. His face, taking the brunt of the bruising, throbs in pain, and he groans, trying to work out what the hell just happened.

“Dean!” He hears Castiel cry out, and he tries not to be too pleased when he hears the concern evident in the Angel’s voice.

He spreads his palms flat on the rock-hard floor, pushing himself up with considerable effort. He notices a thin dribble of blood ooze out of the corner of his mouth, and groans again, wondering what the hell just caused him to damn near knock his tooth out, and whether he should be a bit more afraid right now.

He looks over to where he saw Castiel a few moments ago, to find the Angel still clambering over all of the (ahem) equipment that he must have had to hide behind to shield himself when he heard Dean coming. So apparently he can’t fly, Dean thinks, watching Castiel nearly trip as he climbs over what looks like the wire frame of an old bedstead. With leather ankle straps...

“Graceful.” Dean can’t help but comment, smirking. Castiel shoots him an incredulous look.

“This is not time for jokes, Dean!” Castiel replies, and Dean is a little wounded. Yeah, he knows Cas is hurting, and it’s because of him, but hey, he’s trying here. And he’s just been tackled to the ground! Plus that joke was an unintended pun, considering Cas is a Grace-filled  _Angel_ and everything. “I think it was a violent spirit. We should look for-”

Dean would have loved to hear the end of Castiel’s plan, he really would, but the so-called ‘violent spirit’ apparently has other ideas, so instead, Dean finds himself being dragged off on a fun little journey into the gloomy hallway of death – _by his hair._

“Dean!” Castiel shouts again, and Dean barely hears it over his own agonised shouting. He claws at the ghostly fingers curled tightly in his short hairs, his fingers passing uselessly through the spirit’s ghostly flesh. “Don’t worry, I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Dean might have suddenly found himself completely alone, in a pitch-black hallway with a murderous ghost, but he couldn’t possibly let that one go.

“Now is _so_ not the time, Cas. And you could have at least waited for me!”

Dean doesn’t hear Castiel’s response, but he’s almost certain it’s a full-faced blush, accompanied by an eye-roll. In the meantime, Dean has been surreptitiously reaching for his trusty knife, doused in holy water as usual, and made of iron so there’s no way a ghost could-

“Mother- _fucker._ ” Dean hisses, patting the pockets of his jeans to find them completely empty. He doesn’t know if this was Gabriel or the ghost, but either way he’s pissed. That’s when he feels his wrists being dragged sharply backwards, sending him skidding down across the floor until he’s backed up against the far wall. Then two very cold, very heavy things clamp tightly around his forearms, pinching his skin slightly in the process.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean hisses, but it’s too late, he knows, and he braces himself just in time to be hoisted upwards, the metal shackles around his wrists dragging him up the wall until he’s suspended, Christ-style, though his feet are still planted firmly on the ground thank goodness.

Dean can’t see a damn thing save for the light up ahead, from the room where Cas is, and so he only feels the cold presence of the ghost as it leans up to whisper in his ear: “Only good boys get a _safeword._ ”

“Dean? Are you alright? Is the spirit harming you?” Cas yells breaking through Dean's creepy-as-hell moment with a very kinky ghost.

Dean shudders, trying to regain focus and not be thoroughly creeped out at the idea of being tied up and tortured by a violent, BDSM-crazed nutcase spirit. “It’s cool, Cas. Hurry up though, what are you doing in there?”

“My powers are diminished. I’m searching for a weapon.”

Dean’s heart lurches a little at that – Cas’s powers are diminished? Why? Is this just because of Gabriel or… something else? He decides he needs to say this. Now. Before things get any worse between them. “Cas… about what I said, I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean it, any of it. You know I lo-”

Castiel has frozen, listening to Dean’s words as they sail out of the darkness, saying everything he'd hoped to hear. He listens harder now, wondering why Dean has stopped, mid-sentence, and his blood runs cold.

_The spirit…_

Fear pounding through him, Castiel sprints towards the hallway, hating himself for putting off this moment, for assuring himself and Dean that they had time, that he could look for a weapon, because it was just a spirit after all, and Dean couldn’t…

It’s dark, and Castiel can’t see more than an inch in front of his own face. He considers shouting for Dean, but he doesn’t want to put him in any more danger, so he stays quiet, if you could call it that, what with his heart pounding and his breath coming in short, quick gasps.

He doesn’t have time to feel around for clues. Castiel needs to see what’s happening _now._ Gabriel’s wards may be keeping him from extending his wings and flying about, but he can still light up the whole fucking room if he wants to. He closes his eyes, and wills Dean to do the same.

* * *

 

“I… a sex torture… dungeon…”

Sam seems a little incoherent, and Gabriel is sympathetic. Well, as sympathetic as he can be, considering he has no idea what Sam is fretting over.

“Yep. A good one too. They know what they’re doing in that place. Well equipped.” Gabriel replies, sipping his beer absently.

He’s taken them both to a bar, a _real_ bar, while they wait out the inevitable – i.e the tearful, vomit-inducing, sickeningly romantic ‘Destiel’ reunion.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you know that.” Sam mutters from the other side of the booth, not managing to hide his smirk when Gabriel’s foot slides up his pants-leg. “This better damn well work, because Dean is  _never_ gonna let me hear the end of this.”

“Well, the sex torture thing isn’t really Cassy’s thing I’ll grant you, but the whole near-death experience palava should definitely get them all wonderfully reconciled in no-time.” Gabriel replies casually, burping softly as a result of the beer. “You know how it is with these adrenaline-filled, panic-inducing situations Sam – hell, it’s why you and Dean are so close in the first place. They’ll be clutching each other like children by the end of the night.”

Sam can only stare, open-mouthed as he tries to comprehend what Gabriel is implying. “Huh?”

“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you the place was haunted?”

Sam nearly spits out his mouthful of beer. “What?! No!”

Gabriel looks surprised at Sam’s reaction, and that is completely ridiculous. How did he think Sam would react to this?

“Gabriel! You took Cas’s powers away! What is the place haunted by?” Sam exclaims, resisting the urge to reach across the table and shake Gabriel vigorously for being so stupid.

“Did not! Cas can still - as the kids are saying - ‘light em up’ whenever he wants, he just can’t fly anywhere.” Gabriel retorts, and he’s still leaned back against the plush seating, the epitome of nonchalance, in comparison to Sam who is as tense as a coiled spring. “It’s just a violent spirit – one of the kinky customers that died there years ago, back when there were less strict rules about the S&M stuff. You know, the good old days.”

Sam jumps up from the table, nearly knocking his beer over in the process. “Right. We’re going to help.”

“What? Sam, they’re fine-”

“Gabriel! You made me send my – emotionally fragile – brother into a deserted _sex torture dungeon_ where he is probably being strung up and abused by a violent spirit as we speak.”

“Are you forgetting about Cassy? He’s there to back Dean up!”

“Are _you_ forgetting that it’s not just _my_ brother currently in an emotionally fragile state? We’re going, Gabe. No arguments.”

Gabriel folds his arms, staring up at Sam defiantly from his seat, unmoving. The corner of Sam’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “We’re going or no sex for a week.”

“Does that include the blowjob you promised me?”

“Sure as hell does.”

Gabriel sighs, and makes a very cross noise, but gets to his feet.

* * *

 

Embarrassed, is of course the first word that springs to mind when Dean realises what just happened, then it deepens, bordering on humiliation. It was damn lucky in the end, that along with a ball gag, the kinky little spirit had decided to go ahead and blindfold him, because the sight of Castiel’s grace erupting out of his body, just so he could light up the room and _look_ for Dean, would surely have fried his eyes out.

He supposes it's a good thing it's  _Cas_ that found him all strung up like a damn Christmas decoration, gag and all, because if it was Sam, or worse, Gabriel... Dean just wasn't going down that train of thought. And for what it's worth, Cas doesn't seem to mind particularly.

The ghost, obviously not any kind of match for Castiel’s awesome explosive light show, sizzled out of existence as soon as Castiel decided to get down to business. A damn good thing it did too, because otherwise its death would have been a lot slower, and a lot more painful. Somehow. Dean would have made sure of it. 

Nobody ties up Dean Winchester in a sex dungeon without his consent.

The Angel however, seems not to notice Dean’s beetroot face as he unties him, starting with the blindfold and gag of course. Dean decides to take the opportunity to try his sorry excuse for an apology again, though it seems kind of ridiculous now – Cas is a damn super-being, and here he is trying to entice him back into a relationship after he basically ended things over a badly-written book last time.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean says anyway, looking at Castiel’s dangerously close face as he leans up to start fiddling with Dean’s shackles. Cas’s eyes flick downwards to his once, and it’s intoxicating.

“Don’t mention it, Dean.”

“Cas, I just… I was gonna say, before the ghost tried to Sexcetera me… I’m so sorry man. I didn’t mean it, what I said – of course I still would have wanted to… to be with you. It doesn’t matter about some stupid plan Sam thought up-”

Castiel’s hand moves down and a finger presses to his lips. Dean shuts up, because he has to, and because Castiel’s big fucking doe-eyes are rendering him useless, staring into his damn _soul_. “What you’re saying is making it very difficult to concentrate.”

Dean’s shoulders slump a little, well, as much as they can considering his arms are still strung up in the air. He nods, feeling totally disheartened. Cas isn’t letting him apologise – what now? Has he really blown it?

He tries to protest his innocence a little around Cas’s finger, but the Angel is making it difficult, and he can’t get any words out. Cas just continues to fiddle with the buckle of the shackle binding his left wrist, not responding.

“Don’t make me gag you again.” He says at length, and it’s barely a murmur, but Dean catches it, and stares, mouth slightly open. Cas is smiling, just a little, and Dean allows himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this might all be okay.

Once Dean is free, it gets a little awkward. They’re in a hallway still, though it’s significantly less ominously-black now, and Dean wonders how Cas is still emanating light without blinding him, but doesn’t question it. His Angel is awesome, okay?

"Sorry I took so long." Castiel says, retracting his finger at last, and it sounds a little strangled. It's all wrong anyway; he shouldn't be the one apologising. "I was searching for a suitable weapon in this... place."

Dean chuckles when Castiel pauses; his Angel clearly doesn't want to acknowledge the level of sin he's currently surrounded by. "Find one?"

Castiel shifts awkwardly, and Dean is suddenly all kinds of curious. "...Yes."

"What was it?" Dean asks, grinning, thinking he might know why Cas would be reluctant to show him a weapon he'd found in _here_.

"It was the only thing I could find made of iron." Castiel replies, and he's blushing now dammit. It's so adorable Dean wants to wrap him up and tuck him into his pocket. He waits, looking expectantly at Castiel until the Angel sighs, a little exasperatedly, and holds up his right hand.

Threaded onto his middle finger, like a bizarre, perverse knuckleduster, is a large, spiked iron cock ring. Dean gapes. "Well. That's uh... creative?"

He's not sure, but he thinks he sees the corner of Cas's mouth quirk up in a smile. The Angel pulls the ring off in a fluid motion, throwing it into the dark, shadowy corner with an audible clatter. When Dean looks back up at him, the smile is gone.

“So…” Dean says, trying and failing to sound casual. In his defense, he's in a sex dungeon with _Cas._ How is anything he says going to sound casual? “Can I apologise again, or are you really gonna gag me?”

Castiel doesn’t smile this time, just stares at Dean levelly before looking away. His eyes are shining again, with what look like unshed tears and Dean thinks he can feel his heart breaking.

_I did that._

“When you stopped talking…” Cas says, out of the blue, still standing in front of Dean where he’s still leaning against the wall. “…I was so afraid. I thought the ghost might have… I thought that maybe…”

Dean can’t help it, this is the guy he’s been curled up with every night for the past month – how is he supposed to just stand idly by while he’s so distressed? He pulls Castiel towards him, hating that he has to fight against the Angel’s strength to get him to come in for a hug, but he does eventually, letting Dean’s arms settle around his shoulders and relaxing. Castiel’s breath is warm against his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere, Cas.” Dean says quietly, into his ear. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s killing me Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Castiel squirms a little in his arms, and Dean knows immediately that he’s done some serious damage here. He’s going to be apologising for this for a while. That is, if Castiel actually forgives him.

“I thought… it seemed like, in the boat… like you’d always felt that way. About me.” Castiel says it into Dean’s throat, like he can’t bear to be having the conversation at all, but Dean feels hands tugging lightly at the fabric of his shirt, and he lets himself hope.

“I did, Cas!” He says, gripping the Angel by his shoulders and moving him backwards a little way so that they can look each other in the eyes. “Come on, you know, you were there! There was all kinds of weird tension-stuff going on between us before my moronic little brother got involved. I was just angry, and scared when I found out about what he’d done. I love you, Cas. And I have for a really, really long time, so stop worrying.”

A smile appears on Castiel’s lips, and he seems annoyed by its presence, like he didn’t want to give in just yet. “Dean, I lo-”

* * *

 

**Destiel4eva: yeah, so then Dean tells Cas he loves him**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: FINALLY**

**Destiel4eva: if we weren’t telling the story he never would have done it lol**

**Samlicker81: Guys, focus. Then what?**

“Ooh! I know” Becky cries from where she’s hunched over Chuck’s shoulder, studying the conversation with the intensity of a true fangirl.

**Samlicker81: Hold on guys, Becky’s got an idea.**

**Destiel4eva: awesome! Shoot.**

“Why doesn’t Sam 'save the day'?” Becky asks, grinning widely, complete with air quotes, her eyes glinting. “He _totally_ would – storming in guns blazing, long hair flowing in the breeze…”

She trails off, eyes glazed, and Chuck coughs to bring her back into the present.

“Sorry, hun. But yeah! Sam comes in, interrupts Cas as he's about to say it _back_ , and BAM! Cockblock of the century. It’d be hilarious!”

Chuck contemplates it thoughtfully, rolling the idea round in his mind. He types Becky’s thoughts out into the chatbox, so that the girls can see and discuss it.

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Omg Becky you GENIUS.**

**Destiel4eva: haha that’s awesome wow**

**Samlicker81: Yeah? I’ll type it up then?**

**Destiel4eva: squee! It always makes me super excited when you say that**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Becky, you’re awesome. Come back and talk to us when your bf doesn’t need us, we miss you!**

**Samlicker81: Haha, she says maybe**

**Samlicker81: If you guys are a bit more open-minded towards her Wincestiel inclinations, she might return. Till then you’re stuck with me.**

**Destiel4eva: well I like this arrangement too :D but still I NEED MY BECKY CONVERSATIONS**

**MrsDeanWinchester1997: Chuck! I have another idea, have you typed that up yet?!!!**

Man, Chuck thinks, leaning back as Becky rubs his shoulders fondly, these girls are almost as bad as the Archangels.

* * *

 

“Worst timing _ever,_ Sam.” Dean admonishes as he walks back to the car with Sam, a little behind the two Angels striding ahead of them. “Why put us in that friggin place if you’re gonna cockblock me at the last second?!”

Sam scowls at his brother, hoping that his glare is menacing. “I thought you might be being _probed_ or something, Dean! That was a haunted sex torture dungeon!”

“Yeah no shit! Thanks again for all your help!” Dean hisses back, and Sam is about to protest, but Dean marches off, striding purposefully forwards and grabbing Cas by the wrist as he goes.

Whatever, Sam thinks, there will be time to explain himself later.

Gabriel sidles over to him; they’re near the car now, and Dean immediately opens the back seat, ushering Cas inside before following in himself. And shutting the door.

“Guess I’m driving then.” Sam says, glaring at the side of the car. He looks down at Gabriel after a moment, finding a thunderous expression on his own Angel’s face. “Oh, for Christ’s- what’s _your_ problem?”

“I just had a word with Cas!” Gabriel exclaims, his golden eyes sparking. “Apparently they didn’t care for our sudden appearance! We interrupted them mid-reconciliation, Sam!”

Sam rolls his eyes. For the love of Pete, who does he need to tickle around here to get a thank you for all the damn hard work he puts into the Destiel cause? So what if he broke them up a bit early? At least they’re _talking_ now.

“Yeah, I guess.” Gabriel grumbles, and Sam starts a little, having forgotten once again that Gabriel can read minds. “I still think we should have just stayed at that bar like _I_ said though. As if you would have been able to hold out on me for a week anyway.”

Gabriel drops a hand to Sam’s ass and squeezes, emphasising his point, as if it wasn’t clear enough. Sam wants to be annoyed, but actually, he’s just glad he has someone who acknowledges his toils.

“Speaking of which…” Sam says, a little quieter, though of course they’re completely alone out here. “Don’t I owe you a certain something?”

If Sam is fiddling with the hem of Gabriel’s collar, that’s merely coincidence of course.

Gabriel swallows, and Sam can feel it against his trailing fingers. He smirks.

“Motel?”

“Motel, baby.” Sam replies without hesitation, and they make their way quickly towards the car.

* * *

 

Dean knows he has limited time available to him now, and he was _so damn close_ before, he’s sure if Sam hadn’t interrupted, or the time before, if the friggin _ghost_ hadn’t interrupted, he might have actually managed patch things up with the Angel he so, so does not deserve.

“Cas, I meant what I said-” Dean starts to say as soon as the Impala door closes behind them, but he’s cut off almost immediately by Cas tugging him forwards, his fingers clenched around the material of his shirt. His lips are crushed against Cas’s in moments, and his mind takes a minute to catch up, because he was so sure that Cas would have retreated back into his shell, that he’d have to draw him out all over again.

“I know. You’re sorry. Sam’s sorry.” Cas says against his lips, and Dean is speechless. “I missed you.”

Dean reacts then, suddenly knowing exactly what to do because he’s done it so many times before. He threads his fingers into tousled black hair, pushing Cas back a little way until he’s almost lying, head resting against the opposite door, the Angel’s hands gripping his waist. How could he have ever gambled with something this miraculous?

Cas’s lips are soft, pliant and he pushes against them, moaning because he thought he’d lost this. It’s only been a day, but he feels like he and Cas have been apart for a lifetime, and he straddles the Angel, wanting so badly to be alone with him, to wrap himself up in Cas for weeks, and never emerge. Cas’s tongue is gentle, feather-light as it traces the contours of Dean’s mouth and he brushes his own against it, running a hand down Cas’s waist because he misses the solid presence of his Angel beneath his hands.

Cas’s own hands reach out for something, and Dean instinctively just knows, twining his fingers with Cas’s because he needs to hold on, to join himself to the Angel below him. “Dean,” Cas breathes, and Dean changes his technique, sucking softly at the skin of his neck instead, because Cas is trying to say something, and it’s probably important, because it always is, “I- I love you… too.”

Dean pauses, sitting back on Castiel’s thighs as he surveys the thoroughly dishevelled man beneath him. Strike that. The thoroughly dishevelled _Angel_ who _loves him._

Castiel clears his throat, sensing Dean’s sudden hesitancy. “I love you, Dean Winchester. I have done since I first cradled your soul in my hands.”

Well, fuck. No wonder he was upset when he thought Dean only wanted sex with him because his wings were pretty.

Dean leans down again, blinking away the sting of tears because he’s a man goddamit, and Angels don’t make him cry. No matter how cute they are. He presses his lips softly to Cas’s, focusing on the soft, chapped warmth. He presses a little harder, his hands sliding up Castiel’s chest, and he starts to murmur against his lips, like a mantra, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Castiel makes a broken noise at the repeated phrase, like he can’t accept it, not quite, so Dean keeps saying it. And he will, until he understands.

That’s when Gabriel appears in the front seat.

“Knew that sex dungeon would get you two all worked up.” Gabriel says, his elbows resting on the back of the seat, looking over at Cas and Dean as they scramble up into a more dignified position. Castiel scowls at Gabriel, who just winks. “Atta boy.”

Sam opens the door seconds later, his gigantic frame barely fitting into the driver’s seat. “So,” He says conversationally, not looking behind him and switching the engine on; Dean is immediately suspicious, “have you guys made up yet, or am I gonna have to shrink someone’s clothes again?”

“Not funny, Sam.” Dean says crossly, and Gabriel barks a laugh.

“I would like to request that you drop Dean and I at a Motel, Sam.” Castiel says, out of the blue. His casual tone kind of makes Dean want to bury his face in his hands. But at the same time, it’s all kinds of hot. “We have some issues to work out.”

Sam stares at Cas in the rearview mirror, open-mouthed. It takes him a moment, but he nods, and pulls out of the parking space, apparently looking for the nearest motel.

“That’s where we were headed anyway, right babe?” Gabriel adds, apparently because he has no discretion filter. Sam just squirms and shifts uncomfortably when Gabriel tucks an errant curl behind his ear.

Dean makes a vaguely disgusted noise from the back seat, choosing to bury his face in Cas’s neck instead.

“What, so… you guys aren't up for sharing rooms?” Gabriel asks.

Everyone groans as the car speeds off into the night. 


End file.
